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SKETCHES IN PHISON CAMPS : 



A CONTmUATION OF 



^httljcs of tjjt Mar 



^ 



CHARLES C. NOTT, 

LATE COLONEL OF THE 176tH NEW YOEK VOL 



" On her bier, 
Quiet lay the buried year ; 
I sat down where I could see, 
Life without and sunshine free — 
Death within!'' 



^^^ Or CO/T^- 
\ /p Ng .. jni i . ^^ 



NEW-YOEK: 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH, 

770 BROADWAY, CORNER OF 9TII ST. 

18G5. "Ha* 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S65, by 

CHARLES C. NOTT, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
District of Kew York. 



vv^ 



n 



1 t 



John J. Reed, Pri;jtkr and Steeeotyper, 
43 Centre Street, N. Y. 



^0 
CLARKSON N. POTTER, 

FOR HIS GENEROSITY AND GREAT FAITHFULNESS TO ME, 

AND TO EVERY SOLDIER WITH -WHOM HE HAS BEEN IN ANY WAY CONNECTED 

DURING THE PAST WAR, 

THIS WORK IS GRATEFULLY DEDICATED. 






CONTENTS 



PAGE 

I. — The Teanspoet 7 

II.— The Pay-mastee 25 

III.— The Wild Texans 37 

IV.— The Maech 57 

Y.— The Peaieies 71 

YL— Camp Geooe 94 

YIL— Tea 119 

YIII.— Camp Foed 132 

IX.— A DiNNEE ". 150 

X.— Escape 171 

XL— Exchange 193 



PRISON CAMPS. 



THE TRANSPORT. 



*' Theke come the tug-boats, Colonel," says an officer, 
as I stand on the deck of the "Alice Counce," waiting for 
mj regiment. I am a stranger to it, and onlj assume 
command to-day. From the East river come the boats, 
laden as many other boats have been, with a dark swarm 
of men, who cover the deck and hang upon the bul- 
warks. 

Tlie boats come alongside and throw their lines to the 
ship, and then rises a concord of those sounds that 
generally start with a new regiment. 

a Attention ! Officers and men will remain on board 
the boats till ordered aboard the ship. Captains of A 
and F will march their companies aboard and conduct 
them to their quarters. The bunks of each are marked 
with their Company letter." 

The hubbub ends, and the companies climb succes- 
sively aboard, and stumble down into the dark hold, 



8 PEISON CAMPS. 

where, cold and clammy from recent scrubbings, are cer- 
tain rough bunks, each so contrived as thoroughly to 
make four men unhappy. Unhappy ! for the bunks are 
three tiers thick between decks, leaving no room 
wherein to sit up and be sick — and four men in one bed 
never did and never will lie still. Those who have 
never been to sea before, dream not of what awaits 
them ! 

Yet the men surprise me with the great good humor 
in which they seek out and take possession of their dark 
quarters. On one side, beginning at the sternmost 
bulkhead, Co. "A," with the aid of dingy ship-lanterns, 
stows away the baggage, and next to it is " F," at the 
same work. This order of the companies has a reason ; 
for in line of battle, they are assorted in pairs, called 
" divisions/' so that each division shall contain one of 
the five senior and one of the five junior captains. In 
camp too they occupy the same places as in line of 
battle, and hence this is the proper guide for assigning 
quarters on ship board. Beginning on one side at the 
extreme stern with "A," we run round the ship'imtil at 
the extreme stern on the opposite side we finish with 
" B." There is some difference in the comfort of the 
bunks ; somebody must have the worst, and it is very 
desirable that this somebody shall blame for it only his 
own bad luck. 

" Shall we weigh anchor soon. Captain ?" 
" Can't tell, sir. 'No wind now. Looks as though a 
fog were coming down. Can't sail till we've a wind." 



THE TEANSPOET. 9 

" Colonel," says one of the Captains, " my first-lieu- 
tenant has not been out of camp for six weeks. If you 
will let him go ashore, I shall be much obliged." 

" I cannot, Captain ; the ship is ordered to sail im- 
mediately. While this is possible, no officer can leave." 

" Colonel," says another, " Lieutenant A., of my com- 
pany, learnt last evening that his mother is quite ill. 
Will you ap23rove this pass ?" 

" I am sorry to say. Captain, that no officer can leave 
the ship. We are under sailing orders — the pilot is on 
board — the tug within hail, and we shall weigh anchor 
whenever the wind freshens." 

" It is really very hard." 

" Colonel," says a third, " my first-sergeant's wife is 
very ill. I told him that he could go back and see her, 
and get his things this morning. If you will approve 
this pass, I shall be very much obliged." 

" He must send for his things. We are under sailing 
orders. ]N"o one can leave the ship." 

" The poor fellow promised her that he would cerr 
tainly be back to-day. It was the only way he could 
make her consent to his coming. lie is a most faithful 
fellow." 

" Mate, do you think w^e can possibly sail to-night ?" 

" No, sir ; fog won't rise afore midnight. Pilot's gone 
ashore." 

"Then, Captain, let your sergeant take this dispatch 
to headquarters, and report on board at daylight." 

1* 



10 PRISON CAMPS. 

The fog grows denser and denser — the rain comes 
down ; such drearj refusals and disappointments have 
filled the day. The cabin will not hold half the officers. 
Nothing is settled — all is dirt, disorder and confusion. 
Oh, what a wretched, moody, miserable day ! 

A week of such days passes, but at last the fresh west 
wind blows keen and cold. A little tug comes out from 
among the piers, and seizing the great vessel, leads her 
towards the Narrows, and the regiment at last is moving 
to New Orleans. 

*' I shall be glad," says a young lieutenant, flushed 
with the thought of setting forth on his first campaign, 
" I shall be glad when we are out of sight of New 
York." 

'' You'll be gladder when you come in sight of it 
again." 

" Perhaps I shall," he says, with a laugh ; " but after 
all our working and waiting, it's delightful to be off at 
last." 

I stand on the deck watching the sinking city and the 
lessening shores, as many have done before me, while 
gliding down the beautiful bay, until they grow dim in 
the distance, and then turn away, to think of inspec-. 
tions, rations, fires, and sea-sickness. 

The first night has passed without incident or acci- 
dent, extinguishing the excitement of our sailing and 
leaving us to wake up quietly for our first day at sea. 
Not "quietly," for twenty drummer boys, without the 
faintest sign of sea-sickness, rattled out a reveille that 



THE TEANSPORT. 11 

friglitened the rats from tlieir holes, and brought the 
sleeping watch from the forecastle, and disturbed every 
sailor and sleeper in the ship. It left us wide awake, 
and ready for the routine and duties of the day. 

Breakfast ! — Breakfast is no easy thing to get in a 
transport ship. All night long two gangs of cooks have 
been at work, and there are fears and whispers that 
with all their efforts, the breakfast will run short. Yery 
aggravating is it to wait for breakfast in this cold sea 
air, with nothing else to think of, and your thoughts 
quickened (if you are among the last) by the fear that 
there is not enough to go round. A serious business, 
too, it is to deal it out, requiring more than an hour of 
hungry moments. The companies form in files, and 
on each side of the ship approach the caboose. A mug 
and plate are thrust through a hole. In a moment, 
filled with a junk of pork, three " hard-tack," and a pint 
of pale coffee, they are thrust back. The hungry owner 
seizes them and hurries away to some quiet spot, where 
he can unclasp his knife and fork, and cool his coffee to 
his liking. The long files of the unfed, one by one, 
creep slowly up to the greasy dispensary. The first 
company of the occasion ironically congratulates the 
last, the last ironically condoles with the first. They 
take turn about. Company A is first at breakfast to- 
day ; second at lunch ; third at supper ; to-morrow it 
will be fourth, and thus it will keep on until at length 
it reaches the agonizing state of being last ! 

Watee ! — The water is the next annoyance of the 



12 PEISON CAMPS. 

morning. The men are bronglit up on the upper deck. 
On the lower one is a pump connected hj a hose, with 
the water casks below. The mate, on behalf of the sliip, 
and an officer, on behalf of the regiment, deal out the 
water. Two men from every squad, each with a load 
of canteens hung around his neck, come forward and 
fill them from the tub — a slow and mussy piece of 
work. 

Inspection. — " The water is dealt out, Colonel," says 
the Officer of the Day. '' Will you inspect the quar- 
ters ?" 

The assembly beats, and the men again crowd the 
upper deck. Armed with a lantern, I grasp a slippery 
ladder, and go down into the dark, '' between decks." 
It is very still and almost empty there, much like a 
gloomy cave. The companies have been divided into 
four squads, and a sergeant and two corporals have 
charge of the quarters of each. 

I begin with the first and poke the lantern up into 
the upper tier, over into the middle tier, down into the 
lower tier. Blankets out — knapsacks at the head — 
nothing lying loose. 'No crumbs betraying hard-tack 
smuggled in ; the deck scrubbed clean. " Yery good, 
Sergeant. Your quarters do you credit." The next, a 
blanket not out — half a hard-tack in the upper tier, the 
crumbs scattered over the lower — the deck dingy with 
loathsome tobacco. " Look at this, and this, and this. 
Sergeant. Yours are the only dirty quarters in the 
ship." 



THE TRANSPORT. 13 

" Don't yon tbink tlie quarters pretty good on the 
whole, Colonel ?" asks the Officer of the Day. 

Yery good, Captain. If we except that sergeant's, 
there is really nothing to find fault with." And thus 
ends the first inspection. 

" If the rebels hadn't ha' destroyed the light-house," 
remarks my friend the first mate, as he looks with his 
glass toAvard Hampton Roads, " we could ha' run right 
straight in last night, but seeing that the ship is light 
in ballast, and a good many souls aboard, why, it wasn't 
safe." 

" So they destroyed the Cape Henry light, did 
they?" 

" Yes indeed, they did, and it does seem to me that 
of all they've done that ought to ha' set the hull civilized 
world against them, it's the worst. Just think now how 
many a fine vessel must ha' gone aground there, and 
never be got ofi" again, just for want of the light; why, 
it does seem to me that it's worse than a shootiupr 

o 

women and children ; at any rate, it's just the same." 

" There comes the pilot-boat, and she has her signal 
set," says some one. 

Far up the Chesapeake the pilot-boat is seen, a small 
flag fluttering from her mast head. She comes straight 
as an arrow, like a greyhound rushing down upon us in 
his play. How beautifully she bounds along, looking as 
she mounts the waves as if she would leap from the 
water. The yards are backed and the ship stops and 
w^aits for the little craft. The pilot-boat circles round 



14 PEISON CAMPS. 

her, and coming into the wind, seems to settle down like 
a dog resting from his sport. A little cockle shell of a 
boat puts off, pulled by two black oarsmen, who buffet 
and dodge the waves, and make their way slowly against 
the wind toward the ship. There is much curiosity to 
see this Virginian pilot, and all hands crowd forward as 
he comes np the side. The Captain alone has not 
moved to meet him. He stands dignifiedly on the pooji 
deck, his glass beneath his arm. The pilot does not ask 
for him, or pause or look around ; he evidently knows 
the very spot on which the Captain stands. He bows 
to the crowd around him, pushes his way through, and 
mounts to the deck. He walks up to the Captain, and 
they shake hands. The Captain hands him his glass : 
the pilot takes it : it is the emblem of authority, and the 
Captain no longer commands the ship. 

The pilot raises the glass and looks sharply in one 
direction ; he takes a turn or two up and down the deck, 
and looks attentively in another. I am convinced that 
he knows as well where we are as I should, were I stand- 
ing on the steps of the City Hall. All this looking is 
evidently done to impress beholders wdth the difficulty 
of being a pilot. " How does she head ?" says the pilot. 
" Due west," says the man at the wheel. " Keep her 
west by sou' half sou'," says the pilot. '' Wes' by sou' 
half sou'," responds the man at the wheel. " Set your 
jib, ^sir," says the pilot to the Capt. "Set the jib, 
Mr. Small," says the Captain to the first mate. " Set 
the jib, Mr. Green," says the first mate to the second 



THE TEANSPOET. . 15 

mate. " All hands man the jib halyards," says the 
second mate. '' Aye, aye, sir," resj)ond the sailors, and 
the soldiers look quite sober at finding themselves all of 
a sudden in so difficult and maybe dangerous a channel. 
Meanwhile the black oarsmen pull back to where the 
pilot-boat still lies at rest. The touch of the cockle shell 
upon her side startles her again into life. She shakes 
her white wings, and turning, bounds oflf toward another 
ship, whose sails are slowly rising from the waves far 
off toward the east. 

"What we have come to Fortress Monroe for no one 
can tell. In spite of a decisive order to sail forthwith 
for 'New Orleans, the wind refuses to blow. Another 
weary week of calm and fog intervenes. The Captain 
laments and growls, and says if we had kept on with 
that breeze, w^e could have been at the Hole-in-the-wall, 
and maybe at Abicirm-light ; but now there's no telling 
when the wind will set in from the west — he's known it 
set this way at this season for three weeks. The officers 
and men repeat the growls and lamentations, and fail 
not to ask me five hundred times a day what we have 
come to Fortress Monroe for. 

The week of waiting ends, and a westerly wind assures 
us that we may start. " We must have a tug to tow us 
down," says the Captain. " And we must have the 
water-boat along side," says the mate. A boat load of 
officers and soldiers go ashore to make their last pur- 
chases. I wait on the dock and watch the water-boat as 
it puts off, and listen to the " yo he yo " on the " Alice 



16 PRISON CAMPS. 

Counce" and "Emily Sturges," wliicli tells me that 
tlieir anchors are coming up. 

The tug took us down — the pilot left us much as 
before, and we are now out at sea. The " Emily " led 
us by half an hour, and all day long was in sight, sail- 
ing closer to the wind and standing closer on the coast. 
As the evening closed in, we cast many jealous glances 
toward her, and asked each other which ship w^ould be 
ahead in the morning. 

The second day was a gloomy, wintry day, with a 
rising wind, and constantly increasing sea ; and the 
second night out I felt the motion grow and grow, but 
thought it rather pleasant, and had no fears of evil con- 
sequences. I rose with the reveille, which seemed 
fainter than usual, steadied myself out of the cabin, and 
still knew no fear. I reached the deck and found that 
but four drummer boys rub-a-dubbed, and but few men 
had come up from below. I mounted to the poop deck, 
and there I found three lieutenants. There was some- 
thing unusual about them. Two sat very still braced 
against a spar, while the third staggered violently up 
and down with a pale, in fact a ghastly face, and kept 
saying in a jolly manner to himself, " How are you, 
ship ? how are you, o-oh-shun ?" 

" This is very strange," thought I. " But perhaps 
they're ill. I'll ask them." 

" Gentlemen, are you sick — sea-sick ?" 

"Sick? oh no!" 

i^obody was sick, so I turned and looked down on the 



THE TEANSPORT. 17 

main deck. The reveille liad ended, yet the number on 
deck had not increased. A sergeant with five or six 
men in line was calling his roll in a lond voice, at which 
he and half his men repeatedly laughed, as though 
absence from roll-call was a capital joke. 

It is usual for an officer from each company to come 
up to me immediately after the morning roll-call, and 
report the state of his company, " all present or ac- 
counted for," or so many present and so many absent 
and not accounted for. I am somewhat strict about 
it, yet on this morning only one or two reported. I 
thought this negligence strange — unaccountable — yet 
for some reason or other, I did not go down and ascer- 
tain the cause of it. I turned toward the east. The 
sun w^as near his rising, and the crimson light filled the 
sky and tinged the white foam of the tossing waves. It 
was a splendid sight, and brought to mind one of the 
finest sea pieces of the Dusseldorf. I stood watching 
tlie wide expanse of heaving billows — the cloud-spotted 
sky under-lit with rays of the coming sun — the unnum- 
bered waves breaking in long rolls of foam, silvered and 
gikled by the glowing east. I was lost in admiration, 
when I suddenly felt — sick ! I made brave attempts to 
keep myself up — to weather it out — to stay on my 
legs — to stay on deck — to do something — to do any- 
thing. In vain ! 

That day the wind increased and blew a gale. 
Through the long hours of the afternoon the vessel 
plunged and tossed. Furniture broke loose and slid 



18 PRISON CAMPS. 

backward and forward across tlie cabin. The steward 
looked in, seized tlie vagrant pieces, and laslied tbem 
fast. Stragglers steadied themselves from door to table 
and from table to sofa, to say that all the others were 
down — that they began to feel a little qualmish, and 
that affairs were growing serious. Toward midnight 
there was a tremendous shock — the ship staggered and 
stood still, as though she had struck upon a rock ; in an 
instant more the door of the forward cabin was burst 
open with a crash, and in another the water broke 
through the sky-light over my head, and poured, a tor- 
rent, on the cabin floor. To the men between decks 
it seemed a shipwreck. Yet there were not wanting 
a few heartless wretches, who, neither sea-sick nor 
frightened, made sport of all the others. '' The ship's 
struck a breaker," roared one of these from his bunk. 
" All frightened men roll out and put on their boots to 
sink in." " Struck," " breakers," " sinking," sounded 
around, and several Imndred men rolled out in the dark- 
ness, and frantically tried to put on their boots. With 
the next roll, away all hands went. Some caught at the 
bunks — some clutched each other — the penitent prayed — 
the wicked .swore — the frightened blubbered — the sick 
and philosophical lay still. In the midst of the sliding, 
the scramble and the din, a voice rose from another 
bimk, " Captains " — it thundered in the style of a Colo- 
nel on drill — '^ rectify the alignment." And the jokers 
added to the din their loud laughs of derision. 

A little later the mate came in — a large, stalwart 



THE TRAlSrSPOET* 19 

sailor, seeming a giant in his oilskins and sou'wester. 
He carefully closed the door, stepped lightly across the 
cabin floor, ceremoniously removed his hat, and looking 
into the darkness of the captain's state-room, said in the 
most apologetic of tones, " Caj^tain Singer, I'm really 
afraid the mast will go, if we don't ease her a point. It 
works very bad, and the wind's rising." 

The Captain considered slowly and said, " Ease her." 
The mate said politely, " Yes, sir," and then backed 
across the cabin lightly on tip toe, hat in hand, opened 
the door slowly and noiselessly, and then, without re- 
placing his hat, slipped out into the storm. 

The long night wore away and w^as followed by a 
longer day. The ship tossed and plunged, rising as 
thougli she were mounting from the water to the sky, 
and then sinking as though she would never stop. At 
last the gale blew itself out, and then came a calm, 
■when the ship lay like a log on the w^ater, rolling cease- 
lessly from side to side, and creaked and groaned with 
every toss and roll. But now there is a cry of land, and 
the sick drag themselves to the deck and look toward a 
rocky island of the Bahama group, which is the " land." 
How beautiful it seems, hung there on the horizon 
between the shifting clouds and tossing sea ! The breeze 
is fair, the sea not rough, and w^e soon draw nearer to 
this land. On the farther end rises the snowy tower of 
the light-house, and beside it stands the house of the 
keeper. No other house, nor field, nor tree, nor blade 
of grass adorns this huge bare rock. The waves have 



20 PRISON CAMPS. 

worn grooves on tlie steep sides, and up tliese the water 
dashes, and runs down in white moving columns. 
Abreast of us is a strange opening in the wall-like 
rock, which has given to the island its name of " Hole- 
in-the-wall." The spy-glasses disclose a man, a woman, 
and some children, looking toward the ship. Once in 
three months the supply ship will visit them, bringing 
their food, their clothing, their water and the oil : once 
or twice a year, when the sea is cahn and the wind has 
fallen, the keeper may row out to some ship to beg for 
newspapers ; more often they may gaze, as they are 
gazing now, at passing vessels ; and thus, with such 
rare intervals, they pass their lonely life, cut off and 
isolated from all mankind. 

The warm temperature and rich blue color of the 
water tell us that we are in the Gulf Stream. As I lie 
upon the deck looking upon the mysterious current, a 
slender bird, eight or ten inches long, shining like silver, 
flits through the air. " Did you see that bird V asks 
more than one voice. " Was it a bird ?" " Yes, it flew 
like one." "" No, it came out of the water and went 
back there." 

"It's a flying-fish, gentlemen," says the mate; "you'll 
see plenty of them soon." 

A more beautiful, ftiiry-like sight than these flying-fish 
present, I have seldom seen. A delicate creature, 
bright and silvery, and often beautifully tinged with 
blue, emerges from the water, and soars just above the 
waves in a long, graceful, bird-like flight, until striking 



THE TRANSPORT. 21 

against tlie summit of some wave that lifts its wliite cap 
higher than the rest, it disappears. 

This is called a pleasant voyage from Hole-in-the- 
wall. We watch the ilying-iish, catch Portuguese 
men-of-war, and bathe in the warm water of the stream, 
until there appears before us w^hat some at first thought 
a mud bank, but wdiich now proves to be another 
ocean of muddy water. 

" It is the Mississippi," says the Captain. " Tlie river 
must be up, for we're a hundred miles good from the 
Sou'west Pass. There'll be trouble in crossing the bar ; 
when the river's up the water's down." 

As we draw nearer, the contrast between the two 
oceans grows more plain. The line is as distinct as that 
between land and water on a map. Now the bow of 
the vessel reaches it — now the line is a midship — now I 
look down upon it, and now the ship floats wholly in the 
water of the Mississippi. 

The muddy sea has raised a ferment of excitement, 
and many, who have all faith in the ship's reckoning, 
still look forward as though they could look through the 
hundred miles before us, and see the wished-for land. 
Night closes, however, leaving us surrounded by the 
same muddy waves ; but we turn in, with the strong 
assurance that to-morrow we shall make the Pass. 

Land ! But hidden under low fogs, that, I am told, 
brood over this delta of the Mississippi. From the cross- 
trees can be seen one or two steam-tugs, vessels at 
anchor, and distant salt marshes ; but from the deck we 



23 PRISON CAMPS. 

peer about in all directions, and see nothing in the fog. 
A pilot moves the ship up to her anchorage. We are to 
wait perhaps only the moving of the tugs — perhaps the 
falling of the river ; the river is up, and as was foretold 
by the Captain, the water is down. 

The explanation of this paradox is simple. The water 
on the bar is ocean water, though discolored by the 
river. Its height is always a tidal height, that is, it 
rises with the tide, not with the river. The freshets, 
while tliey do not add to the height of the water, 
nevertheless bring down large quantities of niud, 
which settles on the bar, and thus builds up the 
bottom without raising the surface of the water. Tlie 
pilots measure from the bottom, and finding it nearer 
the surface than it was, say that the water has fallen, 
when in fact it is the bottom that has risen. Then 
come the tides and wash away the loose mud upon the 
bar, and thus the water deepens while the river falls. 

"We are again at anchor ; a tug is heard in the fog, 
and all turn anxiously toward it. The Captain of the 
tug hails the Captain of the ship, and demands what 
water she draws. 

" Sixteen feet and a half," is the answer. " Will 
that do ?" 

The Captain of the tug says it is doubtful — they are 
going down to tug another ship that draws fifteen and a 
half, and if they get her over, they will tug us at the 
next flood tide. 

That ship is the transport " William Woodbury." She 



THE TRANSPORT. 23 

comes down gallantly, the soldiers crowding her bul- 
warks, two powerful tugs puffing at her sides, and every 
sail set. We watch her Vv^ith anxiety. She passes a 
buoy that we think marks the bar, and all seems well. 
Tlie mate says he " don't know but akind of believes 
she's over.'- As he sj)eaks, she swings round, stops, and 
sticks fast. The steam-tugs pull her backward and for- 
ward and sidewise, and at last over the bar ; she disap- 
pears in the fog beyond, and we await with fresh 
anxiety the flood-tide of the afternoon. 

These tugs have one strange appendage in the form 
of a ladder as high as the smoke-pipe ; on the top of 
this is a chair, and in this chair is a man. It is the pilot 
who thus looks over the low fogs of the Pass. From 
this high place we hear the voice of one, toward evening, 
and soon two tugs come down to try their strength in 
dragging our ship through two feet of mud. The 
heaviest hawser is out on deck and an end run over 
either side to the stubborn little tug that lies there. The 
anchor is tripped, a sail or two set, and with good head- 
way, we approach the bar. Suddenly every one who is 
on his legs takes an unexpected step forward — the haw- 
ser parts — the tugs break loose — and we are hard 
aground. But the tugs do not give it up. They re- 
attach themselves and drag us^ after many efforts, out 
of the mud and back to where we started. 

We approach the bar again cautiously; but again we 
feel the vessel grounding, and again she stands still. 
The tugs tug away as though striving to drag us through 



24: PRISON CAMPS. 

by main strength, and many declare that we are moving 
slowly. A neighboring buoy, however, stays close 
beside us, and after half an hour's hard work, shows 
that we have not moved a foot. Still the tug-s tu^: as 
obstinately as ever. They drag us back and try afresh — 
now to the right — now to the left — panting, puffing and 
blowing. The pilots sit enveloped in clouds of black 
coal smoke, and shout, and scream. At last, with the 
last rays of daylight, and the last swelling of the tide, 
and the last strands of the hawser, and at the moment 
when all efforts must cease, we are dragged across the 
bar, and enter the Mississippi. 



THE PAY-MASTER. 25 



n. 

THE PAY-MASTER. 

"Westward from 'New Orleans stretches the Oj^elousas 
raUroad, and along this road we are now doing guard 
duty. Guarding a railroad is the most unwelcome task 
that can be thrust on the Colonel of a new reo-iment — 
scattering the companies, demoralizing the men, destroy- 
ing the regiment, and therefore a Colonel, under suck 
circumstances, has a right to be a little discontented, and 
very cross. 

I am a little discontented, and have wished a hundred 
times that I were back, writing on the sunny hill-side of 
Camp Lowe, enduring all the hardships of Tennessee. 
From an unsoldierly point of view, there is nothing to 
com.plain of here. For the leaky tent, the muddy floor, 
the pork and '' hard-tack " of the West, my large new 
tent has a double-fly and plank floor ; and it is filled 
with tables, chairs, and other luxuries. Up the neigh- 
boring bajou of La Fourche, too, come miniature canal- 
boats, tugged along by little creole ponies, and laden 
with fish and oysters, which the swarthy French fisher- 
men catch in the not distant Gulf. The surrounding 
woods are filled with game that finds its way constantly 
to camp, and from every one of the large plantations 

2 



26 PEISON CAMPS. I 

that abound here, are brought vegetables, eggs and 
poultry. Yet I do not relish this ease and indolence — ' 
the rough cavalry service suits me better, and I wish a: 
hundred times a day that I were back in Tennessee. 

It is the spring-time of the year, yet there is but littlet] 
of the reality of spring to us. The grass has long been 
green, the flowers are plentiful, the sun is hot and burn- i 
ing, but the leaves come leisurely along, and for a fort-| 
night have only moved. These flowers, too, have 
generally no fragrance, though now and then there is: 
one that ovei'powers us with its sweet, sickening odor, , 
and the birds that fill the trees are songless, save the 
"merry mocking-bird," who, like the perfume giving 
flowers, has more than his share of noise and song. 
There is, therefore, none of the glad bursting forth that ; 
makes so brief and beautiful our northern spring. 

This is a muster-day in the army, and it is the fore- 
runner of the Pay-Master. I have been busy since day- 
break calling the rolls of the companies along the rail- 
road, and I have now to ride twelve miles and muster 
one that is doing Provost guard duty in the village of 
Houma. It is not a pleasant ride to Houma ; the road 
runs along a bayou, as straight and stagnant as a canal. 
Occasionally there comes a boat, freighted with a dozen 
barrels of molasses or a few hogsheads of sugar, farrow- 
ing its way through the green scum that covers the 
water, and breaking (k>wn the rank-growing weeds that 
choke the channel. The vagabond-looking ponies that 
drag it along, travel on the "levee," which has the 



TnE PAY-MASTER. 27 

appearance of a tow-path, and makes tlie bayou look 
more than ever like a canal. This bayou is a hideous 
frog-pond, long drawn out, filled with black, slimy mnd, 
and teeming with hideous reptiles. My horse starts as 
I ride beside it, and snuffs the tainted air nervously, for 
two turkey-buzzards fly up from the huge carcass of an 
alligator, and alight close beside me on the fence. Two 
more remain on the* alligator, gorged so that they can- 
not rise. Their rough, dirty feathers remind one of the 
uncombed locks of a city scavenger. ]^o one ever shoots 
them, but draws back and says, with unconcealed dis- 
gust^ " What a foul bird that is." 

Yet on the other side of the road, spreading back to 
the poisonous swamps in the rear, lie some of the rich 
plantations of Louisiana. There are the sugar-houses, 
w^ith their heavy brick chimneys, as large and clumsy as 
those of a foundry ; and near by stand the planter's 
house, the overseer's house, the engineer's house, and a 
little village of contraband cabins. The vast fields are 
cut up into square blocks by ditches, sometimes ten feet 
deep, reminding one of the graded lots in the outskirts 
of a city. On one side of each range of these blocks is a 
raised plantation road, which crosses the ditches on sub- 
stantial bridges, and runs, perhaps for miles, arrow-like, 
as a railroad. It is probable that the plantation is sur- 
rounded by a levee, to keep the water out. The large 
ditches then empty into a canal, and at the end of tliis 
canal will be found a " pumping machine," driven by a 
steam engine, which pumps the plantation dry and keeps 



28 PRISON CAAIPS. 

it above water. Siicli wcalthful agriculture we have 
nowhere in the ITorth. 

Tlie broad, dull thoroughfare on which I ride is an 
unpleasant contrast to the shaded bridle-roads of Ten- 
nessee. Yet it furnishes our only ride, and for twelve 
miles there is but one turn-oif, or intersecting road, and 
not one hill or hollow. So far as the eye can reach in 
all directions — so far as one can ride*on any road he may 
choose to take, is one weary, continuing, unbroken flat- 
ness. I feel a constant longing to mount a hill, and 
often have to repress an impulse to climb a tree, where 
I can look around and breathe a little freer air. 

Ilouma looks somewhat like a deserted village. The 
shops are shut, many of the houses empty, and the 
scowling people wear an idle, listless air. There is no 
love lost between them and the troops. Some months ago 
a few sick soldiers of the twenty-first Indiana were mas- 
sacred not far from the village, and it was done by some 
of the most " respectable " planters. I believe all of the 
guilty parties escaped to the enemy's lines, except one, 
and he, poor wretch, lived for months in the gloomy 
swamps near us, a frightened maniac. His body was 
lately found, showing that he had lain down, worn out 
and sick, and died alone in the dreary solitude. 

In one of these deserted houses I find my officers 
established, and after finishing the muster of their com- 
pany, I spend with them a pleasant evening and quiet 
night. Another dull and solitary ride carries me back 
to my headquarters, to await the wished-for coming of 



THE PAY-MASTER. 29 

tlie Pay-Master. A regiment which has never been 
paid looks eagerly for that admired and much respected 
functionary. It understands not Avliy there should be 
delays, and coins a rumor at least once a day, that he is 
on his way to camp. After many disappointments, one 
of these rumors assumes a substantial shape. A special 
train comes rushing up the railroad, consisting of an 
engine and a single car. The train slirieks that it will 
stop and does so : it bears only two passengers, and a 
heavy, mysterious, iron-bound box. They are the Pay- 
Master, his clerk, and his money chest. 

The Pay-Master is smiling, and happy as a man who 
travels with a trunk full of smiles should be. lie walks 
through the excited throng to my tent, and the mys- 
terious box is borne by two soldiers in a reverent man- 
ner behind him. He takes it from them at the tent in a 
careless sort of way, and pulls and tumbles it about as 
if it were a common piece of vulgar wood — he does not 
even glance at it as he twists and turns the mysterious 
lock. From its depths he brings out our pay-rolls, and 
says in a complimentary manner that they are correct — • 
that indeed he never paid a new regiment where they 
were more correct. He shakes his head despondingly, 
and adds that there are some regiments in this depart- 
ment that have never been ]3aid — that have never got 
their rolls right, and he fears never will. Our men are 
immensely relieved as these facts are whispered around, 
and acquire fresh confidence in their officers, — perhaps 
rather more than they ever had before. 



30 PRISON CAMPS. 

The rolls are sent back to tlie difFerent companies, and 
the men assemble ronnd each Captain's tent and sign 
them. The Pay-Master fortifies himself against the 
coming excitement witli a little Inncheon. Meanwhile 
a table has been placed at the opening of a tent, within 
which are the mysterious box and clerk. 

" Now, Colonel," says the Pay-Master, " if you will 
be so good as to give the necessary orders, we will 
begin." 

The Pay-Master takes his place behind the table 
whicfi bars the entrance to the tent and box ; the 
first company falls in " by one rank," faces " without 
doubling," and in single file approaches the Pay-Master. 
The Pay-Master takes a pay-roll and calls a name ; the 
clerk takes its " duplicate" and checks the name; the 
owner steps forward and answers to the name. The 
Pay-Master seizes a bundle of the precious paper and 
tears ofl" the wrapper. The notes dance through his fly- 
ing fingers, and flutter down before the owner of the first 
name. The Pay-Master carelessly seizes them, says 
" sixty-three dollars, forty-five cents," and tosses them 
towa^i the owner, as though he wishes to be rid of the 
vulgar trash. The owner, much discomposed, carefully 
picks them up and hurriedly retires to the nearest 
bench, whereon he seats himself, and slowly counts and 
recounts the notes, at least five times. It is labor in 
vain ; he cannot make them a dollar more, or a dime 
less than did the Pay-Master. Those practised hands, 
though they count the money only once, and move 



THE PAY-MASTEE. 31 

with tlie swiftness of a magician's wand, never make 
mistakes. 

There is another day's work before the Pay-Master, 
and a somewhat unusual one for him. Four companies 
remain to be paid, and the special train has gone back 
to 'New Orleans. We must travel, therefore, by a hand- 
car. The mysterious box is carried to the car, the clerk 
sits on it, keeping a bright look-out toward the rear, 
lest any pursuing locomotive should rush upon us ere we 
know it ; the Pay-Master and I seat ourselves in front 
upon the floor, and half a dozen soldiers, who are" both 
guard and engine, stow themselves away as best they 
can, and then seizing the crank, put our little vehicle 
slowly in motion. 

It is very pleasant skimming along swiftly so close to 
the ground, with so little noise or jarring, with such an 
absence of smoke and dust, and with such a free, unre- 
strained view of everything around us. By far the 
pleasantest ride upon the rail that any of us have ever 
had, is this. We fly quickly across the wide plantation 
that adjoins the camp, and then enter the wood or 
swamp, whichever you prefer to call it. 

" There will be no train coming along I hope," said 
the Pay-Master, as he glanced at tlie narrow roadway 
and black, slimy water that came close to us on either 
side. "What should we do 7ioio, for instance ?" 

" Tumble the hand-car into the swamp, and slide our- 
selves down the sides of the road, and lie quiet till the 
train has passed." 



32 PRISON CAMPS. 1 

" Ugh !" said the Pay-Master. " I do not like the 
idea of sliding myself into that water. Look how blacM 
and slimy it is, and then that nnhealthy green scum 
upon it. I should not wonder if it were full of snakes 
and alligators." ! 

" Alligators ! You may say that ; look there !" 

An immense alligator is seen stretched on a fallen i 
tree, and dozing in the warmth of the April sun. 

" May I give him a shot ?" asks the sergeant of our 
guard, drawing his revolver. 

*' Yes, if you can hit him." 

The sergeant slowly raises his pistol — the hand-car 
stops — bang ! and the bullet strikes against the scaly 
side and glances off. The alligator slides from the log, 
and disappears in the inky water. 

" I don't care about making that gentleman's acquaint- 
ance," says the Pay-Master. " Mr. Clerk, please keep 
a sharp look-out behind for any stray locomotive that 
may be coming along, and the Colonel and I will look 
out ahead. Seven miles you say it is to the next sta- 
tion ? "Well, I shall feel a little easier when we get there." 

The hand-car resumes its former sj^eed, and we fly 
along through the deep shades and deeper stillness of the 
swamp. The rumbling of the car that we hardly heard 
in the open fields now echoes distinctly, and our voices 
almost startle us, they sound so very clear and loud. 
There are no fields or openings on either side, no firm 
ground to stand upon, and the trees rise out of the green- 
coated water. 



THE PAY-MASTER. 33 

"Stop! what's that? There's something ahead," 
calls the Pay-Master ; " is it an engine V 

" 'No, sir," replies the sergeant, " it is the picket at 
Moccason bajon." 

A mile or two ahead can be dimly seen something 
moving where the railroad track is lost among the over- 
hanging trees. Then, as the car lessens the distance, can 
be distinguished the figures of three or four men, the 
gleam of their muskets and the blue uniform of the 
United States. The picket has turned out and is watch- 
ing us. Our engineer puts on a full head of steam, and 
our little special train rushes along faster than ever, 
until it is " braked-down " on the very bank of Mocca- 
son bayou. 

" These are your men, are they ?" asks the Pay- 
Master. 

" Yes, tliey are here guarding the bridge." 

" Then I will take an order from them authorizing me 
to pay the money to their Captain." 

The Pay-Master writes the order, and looks around 
with curiosity at the picket station. We peer into the 
bayou, which is supposed to swarm with deadly mocca- 
son snakes, and then climbing on the car, resume our 
jaunt. We pay the two companies stationed at Tiger- 
ville ; we hearken to the commanding officer's advice to 
stay and dine with him, and then, with a new hand-car 
and a fresh guard, we run twelve miles further up the 
I'oad and pay the last company. An hour or two after 
dark this is accomplished, and we prepare to return. 

2* 



34: PRISON CAMPS. 

As we approach the car, one of the men meets lis with 
a rumor that a division of the army is coming up the 
single track, and that doubtless we shall meet several 
ti'ains where the swamp is darkest and the roadway nar- 
rowest. We investigate the rumor, and find that it is 
based on the fact that the trains ought to come, but no 
one really knows that they are coming. '' What do you 
think-, Pay-Master ? You and the money-chest must be 
taken great care of." The Pay-Master thinks that if we 
had a lantern it would be safe. We procure a lantern, 
and hold a consultation. One of our guard is an ex- 
perienced railroad builder ; he knows the ways of hand- 
cars, and can tell afar off the sound of advancing trains. 
He promises to " brake-down " the hand-car in an 
instant, and to forewarn us of impending engines long 
before they can run into us. 

We start, and the experienced man stands with his 
hand upon the brake, and an officer who has joined us 
takes his place in front, holding the lantern plainly in 
sight. Away we go into the darkness of the swamp — a 
darkness so thick that you cannot see the man who sits 
beside you. For several miles the road runs straight as 
an arrow, and I sit behind with the Pay-Master, trusting 
those in front to keep a look-out. At length we come 
out of the swamp and enter an open plantation country, 
through which the road makes many turns. " Ease off 
and then brake-down," and the car lessens its speed and 
in a few moments stops. The experienced man goes for- 
ward, puts one ear close to the track, and announces 



THE PAT-MASTEK. 



S5 



tliat there is no train on the road within ten miles. We 
start again, and this time I stand up and post myself 
where I can have a clear view of the front. 

" Oh, Colonel, sit down," says the experienced man ; 
^' no use in your standing up. I'll tell you the moment 
any train comes in sight." 

" I'm much obliged to you, but as the way is some- 
what crooked from here to Tigerville, I think I shall be 
quite as comfortable keeping a little look-out of my own, 
as sitting down and trusting it all to you." 

The hand-car runs merrily forward ; the men, refreshed 
with our brief halt, are sending it along with increased 
speed, when through the trees and bushes, across a sharp 
curve of the road — a flash — a light, and the thunder of a 
coming train. "An engine." "The cars." "^Brake- 
down' quick." "They're at full speed." "They'll be 
on us if you don't hurry." The experienced man tugs at 
the brake, the others start up and frantically endeavor 
to extricate their legs and arms (which everybody else 
seems to be sitting upon), the hand-car runs on as if it 
will never stop ; the heavy engine glares on us with its 
great, glowing eye, and comes rushing forward in una- 
bated haste. There is no time to waste in trifles ; the 
officer in front springs from the car and runs down the 
road, weaving the lantern with all his might ; a couple 
of soldiers tumble themselves oft", and one adroitly falls 
across the track, and lies there stunned ; the experienced 
man strains away on his brake ; the Pay-Master and I 
drop off behind, and seizing hold of the car, succeed in 



36 PEISON CAMPS. 

stopping it. Tlie train seems but a few yards distant, 
crashing and thundering, and shaking the very ground 
we stand on. The Pay-Master, who has been the most 
cautious of the party, is now the most cool and decided. 
While two men push against each other and the ex- 
perienced man gives contradictory directions, the Pay- 
Master seizes the car, capsizes it off the track, and hurls 
it down the bank. The precious box and the stunned 
soldier are dragged out of the way, and the train goes 
roaring past. When all is over, we first berate the 
experienced man roundly, then haul the car with mucli 
trouble up the bank and on to the track, and then feel 
our way cautiously down to Tigerville. There we refresh 
ourselves with a cold supper, tell over the tale of our 
escape, and abuse the engineer to our heart's content for 
not seeing our lantern, and stopping his train. The Pay- 
Master announces his intention of writing the history of 
the last twenty-four hours, and publishing it as the 
" Adventures of a Pay-Master." I am sorry to say he 
does not keep this promise. 



THE WILD TEXANS. 37 



III. 

THE "WILD TEXANS. 

Some weeks after the pay-day, I found myself stretch- 
ed upon a bed, in a little shanty, at Tigerville. I had 
some hazy recollections of having moved my quarters to 
Tigerville — of having left my tent one evening, after 
dress-parade, for a ride — of having ridden to the hospital 
and dismounted, with a dizzy head and aching frame — 
of the surgeon telling me, that I was very ill and must 
not go back — and then of horrible fever- visions. 

The long days travelled slowly, and the sultry nights 
wore away wearily, but they rolled into weeks ere any- 
thing was gained. Then I was carried, to Brashear, and 
placed in a house which had been the mansion of an old 
Louisiana family. In front was a strip of lawn shaded 
by large oaks moss-hung and spreading. Beneath them 
the view opened on the waters of the Atchafalaya, which 
here had widened into Berwick Bay, and beyond, on the 
little village of Berwick. Around were the remains of 
the finest garden of western Louisiana. There still lin- 
gered thickets of the fig and orange, of lemon and ban- 
ana; and there still fiowered oleanders, and catalpas, 
and jasmin, with many other specimens of tropical 
fruits and flowers. As I sat observing these remnants 



38 PEISON CAMPS. 

of other times, an old 'New York friend and his wife 
came in. The ladj looked around on the grass-grown 
walks, broken and effaced; on the long rows of fruit 
trees to which horses were picketed ; on the rare flower- 
beds trampled out by droves of mules; on the smooth 
grass-plots covered with heaps of rubbish. 

" You have been here before," 1 said, as I marked 
the careful looks that travelled so closely over every part 
of the sad, disordered scene. 

" I have passed the most of my life here," she replied. 
" This is my mother's house." 

It was the story of another divided family. All of 
her own relations were in the Confederate lines, and she 
had remained with her husband to await the coming of 
the Union army. 

The enemy were gathering above us on the Teche. 
Those oath-taking patriots, whose sons were in the ene- 
my's army and crops within our lines ; who, heretofore, 
had stood aloof and scowled sullenly at us when we 
passed, now came into camp, and for once were commu- 
nicative. They asked us if we knew what was coming, 
and hinted at Southern conscription, and the damage 
the Wild Texans would do the growing crop. They 
feared the rough riders from the prairies, and told many 
tales of their lawless cruelty. There came in, too, refu- 
gees and contrabands, all speaking of the enemy's in- 
creasing strength ; of boats collecting for some night 
attack, and of the reckless fierceness of those Wild 
Texans. On the opposite side of the river, the Wild Texans 



THE WILD TEXAITtS. 6d 

began to move in open clay. They came down in little 
scouting parties, hiding behind houses and bushes, but 
constantly on the alert. We must have presented tempt- 
ing marks for a long-range Enfield, yet they never fired, 
but fiitted silently about, always observing us, yet never 
responding to our many shots. 

I watched these indications of the gathering storm, 
with the nervous irritability inseparable from conval- 
escence. But every slight exertion brought on a slight 
relapse, and I was soon forced, so far as I could do so, to 
abstract myself from these excitements, and try to gather 
back my strength in time to be of service in the coming 
trouble. To this end, I took up the contents of some 
captured mails. There were a few of the ridiculous 
letters, that once found their way freely into our news- 
papers, with bad spelling, and false syntax, and bom- 
bastic rhetoric, bnt the most of them were sad. More 
woeful letters were never read than these Wild Texans 
wrote. There were such mournful yearnings for home 
— for peace — for those they had left behind, that, in- 
sensibly, the mind changed from exultation into pity. 
There was a slight compunction, too, in running the eye 
over the secrets of our enemies ; a more than reluctance 
to look upon these hidden words, which love and duty 
had written for loving eyes, and coldly appropriate them 
as our own. There were tales of want and tales of lovo 
— tidings of weddings and of deaths. Here was a letter 
from a father in Port Hudson, to his " dear little daugh- 
ters ;" and here one from a mother to her " own beloved 



40 PRISON CAMPS. 

son." This is a family letter, written by the parenl^ 
and sisters, to their " two dear bojs," who now ai 
watching lis from the other shore. And this one is th 
reverse, for it is addressed to "father, mother, wife, an 
sisters." The rebel soldier has filled his ''last sheet 
with sad forebodings, with few hopes, much love, and! 
many prayers. A widow's letter tells me, that her onlj 
child fell at luka; and a father's, that his eldest soj 
died before Dalton. " What wonder," each letter asks; 
" that I wish to die and be at rest ?" Among so many ; 
of com-se a love-letter can be found, breathing a firsi- 
avowal. It is written to some village beauty, and hints 
at rivals, and her sometime smiles and sometime frowns. 
The village beauty is, I judge, a slight coquette, who 
has led her lover along with little encouragements 
and little rebuffs. His letter is written in a manly 
strain, and tells her that he had hoped to gain an honor- 
able name, and come back to win her in an early peace. 
But the peace has not come. He can bear this suspense 
no longer. He begs her to deal frankly and truly with 
him, and, if she loves him, to answer this letter. The 
letter will never be answered ! I laid it away, and 
thought that I would send it, by some flag of truce, to 
the unknown belle. But my papers were captured, and 
this letter, on which so many hopes hung, was lost. 

The threatening trouble drew nearer. There were 
frequent alarms — the cannon rung out their warnings 
often during the night — the long rolls were beaten and 
the troops assembled and stood on their arms. One 



THE WILD TEXANS. 41 

night I awoke at the call of the cannon near my window, 
and lieard the men assembling and the ammnnition 
wagons rolling past. To one accustomed to act at such 
times, such forced inaction is the severest of trials. I 
watched from habit, expecting the rattling small arms of 
an attack, but the night wore away in unusual silence. 
The next morning I was told that all our troops save the 
sick and a few on guard, had gone. The sick men 
whispered each other that we were defenceless, and it 
was well that we had the telegraph and railroad, and 
could call our troops back in case of an attack from 
across the river. A few hours passed and then the tele- 
graph suddenly ceased its ticking — the railroad was cut 
and the enemy was between us and our forces at La 
Fourche. 

ISTo relief came, and after three days of suspense, 
Brashear was carried by assault. Some of our sick men 
formed a line and behaved well, but they were quickly 
overpowered. The red flag of our hospital was not un- 
derstood by the assaulting party, and for a little while 
it looked as if no quarter would be given by the Wild 
Texans to our sick and wounded. I had risen and mount- 
ed my horse after the attack commenced, and I now dis- 
mounted at the hospital, and with Captain J^oblet of 
the 1st Indiana Artillery stood awaiting the result. The 
Captain was full of wrath, and vowed that he would put 
the two or three charges, still in his revolver, in places 
where two or three of the murdering villains would feel 
them. A wild looking squad, with broad hats and jang- 



42 PRISON CAMPS. 



II 



ling spurs, rushed, revolver in hand, upon the bnilding.jS^'c 
In no very decided mood at the time, and acting chiefly 
from the military habit of looking to some one in au- 
thority, I asked sharply if there was an officer among 
them. They stopped, looked, a trifle disconcerted, and 
one answered that he was a sergeant. 

" This is a hospital," I said, anthoritatively. " Ser- 
geant, put two men on guard at the door, and don't 
let any but the wounded pass in." 

" "Well then. Bill," said the sergeant, " you and John 
stand guard here. And now see you don't let nobody 
go in unless they be wounded." 

This was the first and last order I ever gave to a Con- 
federate soldier, and it is due to the sergeant to say that 
lie executed it promptly and well. 

About the same instant another squad rushed to a 
side windo^T and poked their rifles througli the sash. 
Dr. Willets, the surgeon of the 176th, at the moment was 
operating on a wounded soldier. With professional cool- 
ness he turned to the window, and in the decided man- 
ner that one would speak to a crowd of small boys, 
said — 

" This is a hospital ; you mustn't come here. Go away 
from the window and get out of my light." 

The rifles were withdrawn ; the party looked at the 
window a moment in a somewhat awe-struck manner, 
and then saying to each other, " You mustn't go there," 
they withdrew. 

The wounded of both sides were brought in, and our 



THE WILD TEXANS. 43 

urgeons, with scrupulous impartiality, treated all alike. 
h'oni beside tlieir operating table I was moved to an< 
apper room with Lieutenant Stevenson of the 176th. A 
Qiiunie ball had torn through the entire length of his 
x>ot, leaving a frightful wound that threatened lockjaw 
ind amputation. On the next cot lay a wounded Con- 
federate named Lewis — a plain, simple-hearted man, 
who, for the next week, proved a useful and trustworthy 
friend. As we thus lay there, my regimental colors, by 
some strange chance, were brought into the room. Our 
conversation stopped — the sick and wounded raised 
themselves from tlieir cots, and all eyes were fastened 
upon the inanimate flag as though it were a being of 
intelligence and life. The Texan soldier first broke tlie 
silence. 

" Tliat," he said, in a dreamy way — half to himself 
and half to us — " that has been the proudest flag that 
ever floated." 

"And is stilly sir,'^^ said my wounded lieutenant, 
proudly. 

The Texan said notliing. I expected an outbreak, for 
there had been no little defiance in the lieutenant's re- 
ply, but none came. Some old emotion had evidently 
touched his heart and carried him back to earlier and 
better days. 

As he turned away my color-sergeant whispered to me 
a plan for destroying the colors, which, however, I did 
not approve. He pleaded that he knew every thread of 
that flag, and that it would almost kill him to see it 
borne away by rebel hands. " JSTo, Sergeant," I was 



4:4: PRISON CAMPS. 



! 



obliged to reply, "we must keej) our colors by figlitina|oi 
for them, and not by a dirty trick." The answer satis-j 
fied neither the sergeant nor my fellow officers. Yet 
before my own imprisonment was over, I had the great 
happiness of learning that the nndestroyed flag, honor^ 
ably recaptured, was restored to its regiment. 

An officer soon appeared charged with the duty oi| 
paroling our men. His quiet and courteous manner said 
plainly that he was a gentleman, and he introduced liinn 
self as Captain Watt, of Gen. Mouton's staff. The Cap-) 
tain and I looked at each other as men do who thiiik 
they have met before. He then informed me thati 
formerly he had spent his summers at Saratoga and 
Kewport, and that he thought we must have known each; 
other there. For this slio:ht reason — so sli2:ht thatl 
•many men would have made it a good excuse for drop- 
ping an acquaintance, if any had existed — Captain Watti 
called on me repeatedly, procured an order for my being; 
retained in the Brashear hospital, and for several montlis- 
carefully transmitted to me such letters as found their 
way through the lines. His family had been one of the 
wealthiest in ISTew Orleans, and were now refuge-es im 
Europe. He had entered the army under the belief that 
it was a duty to his State, and on the capture of the city 
had beheld the ruin of all who were dearest to him. Yet 
he made no ill-timed allusions to this, and in our conversa- 
tions always selected pleasant topics and spoke kindly of 
the hours he had spent and the acquaintances he had 
made in the E'orth. 

The chief Confederate surgeon (Dr. Hughes, of Yic- 



THE WILD TEXANS. 45 

oria, Texas,) next arrived, and assumed command at 
'lie hospital. It caused at first but little cliange. Our 
)wn surgeons continued in charge of our wounded — 
)ur steward continued to dispense the stores, and the 
itores continued to be forthcoming. The Confederate 
;urgeons were polite and kind, doing all they could to 
nake us comfortable, and expressing thanks for the 
reatment previously bestowed on their own w^ounded. 
Thus, in a few hours, our affairs had settled down in 
heir new channels ; and we, with a strange, new feeling 
3f restriction upon us, set ourselves to w^ait for the bad 
news, and fresh reverses likely to come. From our 
window we could see the Confederate forces crossing the 
river. They waited not for tardy quarter-masters or 
proper transportation, but, in flat boats and dug-outs, 
tressed steadily across. A little steamer dropped out 
of one of the narrow bayous, and worked ceaselessly, 
bringing over artillery. Ere sunset, we estimated tliat 
five thousand men and four batteries had crossed, and 
were moving forward to break our communications on 
the Mississippi, and compel us to raise the siege of Port 
Hudson. 

From this early day, there was a strong resolve in 
the minds of most of us, to be cheerful before the enemy, 
and, wdiatever w^e felt, not to let them see us downcast. 
When the mind is really roused and in motion, a little 
eflort will turn it into almost any channel. We made 
the effort, and succeeded. One individual who came in 
last, and ventured to sav, with solemn visage, that this 



I 

1 

46 PKISON CAMPS. j 

calamity was awfal, was immediately frowned down 
and warned that, if he talked such nonsense here, h 
should be moved to some other ward. The effect wa 
magical, and in ten minutes he became rather a merry 
careless kind of fellow. This treatment, I believe, save( 
many lives ; and I found that my own convalescenca 
which had been slow and changeful in the previou 
qniet, was now rapid and steady. 

There were sorrows enough to see, if one chose to look 
toward them. So many causes never united to depress^ 
and never produced so little effect. J^either the shame: 
ful loss of the post, nor the presence of the sick ana 
wounded filling every room, nor om* imburied dead who 
lay around the building, nor the prospect of a long cap-) 
tivity, nor the helj^lessness of disease, nor the sufferings 
of wounds, were sufiicient to make us appear sad. 1 
marvelled then, and cannot understand now, how the 
mind was able to throw off these troubles, and how real 
this enforced cheerfulness became. A sense of duty dic- 
tated it at the beginning, and redeemed it from heart- 
lessness afterward. Once, indeed, my spirits failed me, 
as I searched some private letters to find an address.? 
They were so light-hearted and happy, and dwelt on the 
belief, as on a certainty, that he, to whom they were 
written, would return crov\^ned with honor. It was a: 
happy and brief illusion. An only sister had given: 
her only brother to the war — the orphan pair had made 
this great sacrifice of separation; and now I had to write 
to the young girl, and say that he had been my most 



THE WILD TEXANS. 47 

trusted officer, and had fallen for the honor of his 
flag.* 

There was a class of captives who saw the loss of 
Erashear with heavier hearts than those who possessed 
the rights and hopes of "^prisoners of war." The 
unhappy contrabands were agitated before the blow fell, 
but met it with the tearless apathy of their race. " The 
niggers don't look as if they wanted to see us," I heard 
one Confederate soldier say to another. 

"N'o," said the other; "but you'll see a herd of fat 
planters here to-morrow after them. They don't fight 
any, but they are always on hand for their niggers." 

It was even so : for days, planter after planter appear- 
ed, and party after party of men, women and children, 
laden with their beds and baggage, tramped sorrowfully 
past our quarters. The hundreds that remained went, I 
know not whither. 

There was one woman, a quadroon, who had been an 
attendant in our hospital. With her there were an old 
mother, darker than herself, and a little daughter so 
fair, that no one ever suspected her of being tainted 
with the blood of the hapless race. This woman, through 
all the tnrmoil and trial of that time, never lost the 
little marks of neatness and propriety that tell so plainly 
in woman of innate dio;nitv and refinement. The taste- 
ful simplicity of her frequently changed dress ; the neat 
collar and snowy cnfiPs ; the pretty work-box, and more 
especially her quiet reserve, indicated rather the lady 

* Captain John S. Cutter. 



4:8 PRISON CAMPS. 

than the shive. During the fight she had been calm 
and brave, and when a couple of cowards had rushed 
into the hospital and begged for a place where they 
could lie down and hide themselves, this woman^ while 
volleys were firing at the hospital, and men and women 
falling in the passages, had shown these men to a room 
and closed the door on them, and walked away so 
quietly that one might have thought her beyond the 
reach of the danger that threatened them. An hour or 
two later, as she passed through the ward where we 
lay, she stopped at the window and looked out on the 
scene of the Confederates crossing the river. Of all the 
persons to whom the capture of Brashear boded grief and 
wrong, there probably was not one to whom it threat- 
ened so much as to her. With her mother and her 
child, she had been preparing to seek the surer refuge 
of the North, and this direful calamity had come when 
the place of safety appeared almost within her reach. 
Yet she shed no tears, and uttered no complainings. 
Her large, sad eyes fastened on the river, she stood 
beside the window and heard the shouts and yells that 
told of the Confederate triumph. For half an hour she 
never moved ; her face retained its soft composure, 
and only once the muscles of the lip fluttered and 
trembled, as though there might be a troubled sea with- 
in. Then she turned and w^ent back to her work, as 
calmly as if she alone had suffered no change. She 
cheered those men who were struggling for strength to 
go out on parole ; she worked for those officers who 



THE WILD TEXANS. 49 

were to be sent forward into captivity. For herself, she 
nev^er invited aid or sympathy. We asked her if we 
might not pend for her former master to come and take 
her back to her old home. But this, for some untold 
reason, she steadfastly refused. It was urged that she 
and her child would be sent far into Texas or Arkansas ; 
and that they might be seized, as so much booty, by 
some of these half-savage strangers. She answered 
quietly, that she had thought of this. Ere we parted, 
we asked her what iiiture . help we could give, and 
what plan she would pursue to regain her freedom, 
or secure some less dangerous home. And she said 
briefly, that she did not know, and said no more. 

The captured officers, able to march, were sent forward 
to Shreveport, and the men were paroled and marched 
off to our lines. Three officers of my regiment re- 
mained with me — two sick, and one severely wonnded. 
Two " citizen prisoners " were also added to our number. 
One of these, whom I shall call Mr. Stratford, was held 
as lessee of a confiscated plantation. His wife was per- 
mitted to remain with him, and she now visited the hos- 
pital daily. The other civilian was Mr. Dwight Farce, 
of Chenango County, l^ew York, who had just begun 
business in Brashear. He now witnessed the destruction 
of his property with undiminished cheerfulness, and, 
although an invalid, fated to fill a prisoner's grave in 
Texas, met the discomforts that awaited him with a 
serenity and hopefulness that nothing ever disturbed. 

"We all effected some captures of baggage. Captain 

3 



60 PEISOK CAMPS. 






Watt sent me an order for tlie delivery of mine if it 
could be found, and Dr. Hughes, with ever ready kind- 
ness, advised me to take his ambulance and search for it! 
at the fort, where some captured property was stored. 
The guard consisted of a young gentleman in his shirt 
sleeves and no shoes, who, when requested to go, 
whistled violently, and perched himself on the rear: 
of the ambulance, with his face toward the hospital and I 
his back toward me. I asked him, with some surprise, , 
if he was not going to take his rifle ; at which he stop- 
ped whistling and said, he reckoned not. After whis- 
tling a few minutes, he further defined his position by 
saying, that if I ran away he reckoned he could run 
after me ; and then, that he reckoned the climate had 
been a heap too much for me. After another whistle 
his stiffness wore away a trifle, and he manifestly tried 
to put me at my ease by saying, "Dog gone the 
Lousanny climate, and the bayous, and the beef, and 
dog gone the Lousanyans : they're the meanest set of 
people ever I see. I'd just as soon shoot one of 'em as a 
Yank." This put me quite at my ease, and Ave then had 
a very interesting conversation. The etymology of 
"doggone" my guard was ignorant of; he suggested 
that it meant pretty much what something else did, but 
wasn't quite so bad, in which opinion I coincided. 
Since then I have learnt that this expressive phrase is 
derived from the threat of putting a dog on you, and 
that it saves annually, in Texas, an immense amount of 
swearing, and is found to answer just as well. 



THE WILD TEXAI^TS. gj 

On the morning of the third of July, the Officer iA the 
Day appeared. He was a Captain in Colonel Bate^i' Tex- 
an Battalion, and he blandly begged tliat we would 
prepare to move in the afternoon ; the boat woald be 
ready at five, and we would be sent to the hospital at 
Franklin, where we would be much more comfortable. 
The boat did not come, however, and we remained to 
celebrate the " Fourth " at Brashear. We went round 
among our sick men who remained, to cheer them y/ith 
the certainty of their early release ; we read the Dxicla- 
ration, and we drank a bottle of wine, which Mrs. Strat- 
ford, with patriotic devotion, smuggled in for us. Our 
friend, the ex-officer of the day, reappeared to apologize ; 
the boat had been detained — he knew he muat have 
caused us much trouble — he had come to beg us to for- 
give him — he deeply regretted that he had not known of 
the delay in time to inform us. To-day he believed 
' that there would be no delay, and he had just requested 
the new Officer to order the boat up to the hospital, 
so that we should not have the trouble of walking 
down to where she lay. JSTothing could have been more 
elegant, chivalric, and delightful. If he were one of my 
own officers and I were the Lieutenant-General, he could 
not have been more courteous and respectful. 

We started on our " Fourth of July excursion" in the 
afternoon. While the boat was lying at the wharf, an 
officer, with long white hair and of imj)osing ap|>ear- 
ance, came slowly down the saloon. As he drew near 
I observed a Colonel's insignia on liis collar, and one of 



52 PEISON CAMPS. 

tlie guard whispered me, that it was Colonel Bates, the 
commanding officer at Brashear. The Colonel marched 
up to me, extended his hand, and with grand solemnity, 
in keeping with his dignihed bearing, said : 

" Colonel, I have come down now to apologize for not 
having waited nj)on you before. I ought to have done 
so, sir — I ought to have done so. But I have been over- 
occupied. I pray you to excuse me, sir." 

"When I consider our difference in years, and the dif- 
ferent circumstances that surrounded each, I do not know 
of any incident that could have pleased me more than 
this stately courtesy of the old Colonel. An interesting 
conversation followed, in which I learnt that he was an 
Alabamian by birth. He spoke highly of the Texan 
character, which, he said, excelled in bravery and sim- 
plicity ; but he warned me that the country could turnish 
few comforts, such, he said, as JN'ortherners have at home. 
Then, when the boat was ready to start, he called up the 
officer of the guard, and said to him : 

'' Captain, your orders are strict, I know ; but these 
gentlemen are invalids ; they are too weak to escape, 
sir. You must construe your orders liberally, sir, in 
favor of the sick. Do not let the guard trouble these 
gentlemen, and make them as comfortable as you can." 

There was another Colonel who succeeded Colonel 
Bates, at Brashear ; he was a citizen of a 'New England 
State, and had been an ice merchant in New Orleans. 
When the war came, he went, not " with his State" but 
with his property. All the indignities, ill-treatment, 



THE WILD TEXANS. 63 

meanness and cruelty that we met with at Brashear and 
Franklin, came directly from him. While the real 
Southern officers were showing us unsought kindness 
and attention — while thej were overlooking what they 
sincerely believed to be the needless ruin of tlieir homes, 
and the wanton destruction of their property, this mis- 
erable [Northern renegade was bullying Northern ladies 
— "bucking and gagging" unfortunate prisoners, and 
sending sick and wounded officers out of the hospital by 
orders as cowardly as they were cruel. 

The Franklin Flospital had been the " Franklin House" 
before the war, and stood close beside the bayou. Lieu- 
tenant Stevenson was placed in the wounded ward, and 
the rest of us were assigned three pleasant rooms in 

a wino; of the buildino;. Our ffuard consisted of a cor- 
es o o 

poral, named Ingram, and six men of Colonel Bates' 
regiment. They bivouacked on the piazza, and com- 
pleted our confusion as to what Wild Texans are. They 
did not drink ; they did not swear ; they did not gam- 
ble. They were watchful of us, but did everything 
kindly and with a willingness that greatly lessened our 
feeling of dependence. 

.The surgeon in charge of the hospital, Dr. Marten, 
was polite and kind. A stylish little French lieutenant 
of the 10th Louisiana, named Solomon, was assiduous in 
his attentions. He detailed a contraband as our especial 
servant ; hourly sent us little presents, in the way of 
fruit and refreshments, and paid us those easy, chatty 
visits, that Frenchmen pay so much better than any 



54 TEISON CAMPS. 

other men. There was a sort of Dutch Major-Domo^ 
one Schneider, who took us under his special protection, 
blowing up the cook and scolding the waiter, on our be- 
half, a dozen times a day. There was also a sergeant of 
the Crescent regiment — a soldier and disciplinarian, but 
easy and communicative toward us. Lastly, there was 
our contraband, bearing the name of Ben, and veiy 
sharp and shrewd was he, and never wanting in good- 
humor or flourishing obeisances. 

The ladies of Franklin flocked to the hospital, bringing 
fruit and flowers, and knick-knacks of their own prepar- 
ing. They difi*ered considerably with the doctors on 
questions of diet ; and did about as much damage, in 
their pretty way, as patriotic young ladies have done in 
other than Confederate hospitals. They carefully avoided 
the cot of the solitary Yankee prisoner in the wounded 
wai'd ; the well-bred passing it by as though the slight 
were casual, and the ill-bred, showing with studied care, 
that it was intentional. The Wild Texans who had cap- 
tured us shared not in these patriotic manifestations. 
They, on the contrary, divided with Lieutenant Steven- 
son whatever they received, looked after him as though 
he were a brother soldier, and, once or twice, asked their 
fair visitors rather angrily, why they didn't give this or 
that to that gentleman on the fourth cot. Yet it must 
not be supposed that this conduct of the Franklin fair 
proceeded entirely from their own wicked imaginings. 
The women, like the men of the South, are all slaves of 
public opinion. After awhile one lady, giving way to 



I 



THE WILD TEXANS. 65 

the natural kindness of her nature, stopped at the 
prisoner's cot, and then the others followed the example. 
T]ie presents flowed in with a free hand, and the sails 
once fairly round on this tack, the wind seemed to blow 
as strongly from the chivalric quarter as it had j)re- 
yiously blown from the patriotic. 

This narrative would not be truthful if I omitted 
therefrom a statement of the fare, during our fortnight in 
the Franklin hospital. It was so much better than I had 
expected ; so much better than I had supposed it possi- 
ble that prisoners could receive at rebel hands ; so differ- 
ent from the fare which we knew was to follow, that I 
carefully noted down the bill on several days, and from 
these select a favorable specimen. 

" Wednesday^ July 15. At Sunkise. — French Coffee 
and Biscuits. 

"Bkeak^ast. — Beef Steak, Beef Stew, Cucumbers, 
Stewed Peaches, Melons, French Bread, Biscuits, Toast 
and Te^. 

" DiNNEK. — Soup, Roast Beef, Beef a la mode, Cucum- 
bers, Egg Plant, Lima Beans, French Bread, Biscuits, 
Tea." 

Tliis easy prison-life, however, received a jog, in the 
shape of an officer of Speight's Battalion of Texas Cav- 
alry. He was introduced to us as Lieutenant Geo. C. 
Duncan, and he bore orders to carry us to Niblett's 
Bluff, on the Sabine. It appeared therefrom that we 
were to be moved to the southern side of Texas, and not 
to follow the officers captured with us. 



56 PKTSON CAMPS. 



• 



The orders were, to cany all tlie prisoners at the hos- 
pital to Niblett's BiiifF ; but when the officer saw Lieu- 
tenant Stevenson, and heard the surgeon's statement, he 
sent down a special re]3ort from the surgeon, and waited j 
for further orders. In the meanwhile, our polite French 
friend, Lieutenant Solomon, drove Mrs. Stratford to 
New Iberia, and we awaited, v/ith some anxiety, our 
departure, and discussed the probabilities of marching 
through, or giving out bj the way. 



THE MAilCH. 57 



lY. 

THE MAECn. 

It was Sunday morning, about sunrise, when Lieuten« 
ant Duncan aj)peared at the door, and informed us that 
we must start immediately. There was an instantaneous 
springing up — a hurried toilet — a rapid rolling of blan- 
kets, and a hastily-snatched breakfast of bread and coffee. 
I remarked, with more unconcern in my manner than I 
really felt, that I supposed Lieutenant Stevenson would 
remain. The lieutenant's countenance fell, and, look- 
ing another way, he said, nervously, " Orders have come 
to move all immediately, and I have no alternative." 
It was my unpleasant task, therefore, to go down and 
announce to the wounded officer that he must go. In 
addition to his painful wound, he was suffering from an 
attack of fever. His exhausted appearance frightened 
me, though I talked quite boldly of the good effects 
of change of air, and the advantages of continuing 
with . us. 

A clumsy plantation wagon rumbled to the door, and 
the new guard, mounted on wild-looking Texan horses, 
drew up around it. The old guard, like good fellows, 
helped us quite cordially. in carrying out our baggage ; 
and they shook hands and bade us good bye, with a 

3* 



58 PEISON CAMPS. 

warm til tliat savored miicli less of rebel enemies than of 
countrymen and friends. Some newly arrived prisoners 
were brought from the Court House, and we started. 
As we moved off, one of them seized me by the hand 
with many expressions of surprise. At first I did not 
recognize him, but, after a moment, discovered that he 
was Captain Frederick Yan Tine, of my former regi- 
ment, and learnt that he, with two Massachusetts officers, 
was captm^ed on the Mississipj)i, and, for the last week, 
had been confined in the jail at Thibondean. 

Up the main street of Franklin we marched two by two, 
the guard strung along on each side, their rifles unslung 
and their eyes watching ns, as if they somewhat feared 
an immediate escape. The loafers of Franklin of course 
turned out to stare at ns, and made remarks rarely com- 
plimentary ; the women looked at us from the door-steps 
as we passed, some triumphantly, and a few in pity. 
At the head of this inglorious procession it was my place 
to walk ; but the new prisoners revealed the hitherto 
concealed news, and I felt proud and happy over the long 
delayed result of Yicksburg and Port Hudson. 

Beside our own party, and the three officers from the 
Mississippi, were a number of '' citizen prisoners," and 
and unfortunate deserter whom they had caught at 
Brashear. Of these civillians, a dozen were Irishmen; 
and they immediately placed themselves at the head of 
the column, and proceeded to walk and talk with a zeal 
that nobody attempted to equal. A move is always ani- 
mating, even when it is toward captivity; but our 






THE MARCH. 69, 

excitement was sliort-lived. Hardly liad we passed 
from the shadow of the town, when the convalescents 
felt the effect of the bm-ning, fever-kindling sun. It 
was a serious business for some of us. One hundred 
and eighty miles distant flowed the Sabine, and we were 
to march there, over open prairies and in the middle 
of the Southern summer. , 

Before a mile was travelled over, I could see the effect 
of the fearful heat in others, and feel it on myself. 
Faces grew flushed; coats were stripped off, and the 
perspiration poured in streams. Yet it was a matter of 
honor not to give up. For my own part, I was smarting 
with mortification at the disgrace of Brashear, and 
resolved, and re-resolved, to walk till I fell dead, before 
one of these Southern soldiers should say that a Yankee 
Colonel had given out. 

At the head of the guard rode a good-looking young 
fellow, tall and sinewy, and with the merriest face I 
have ever seen in a Southerner. I had some doubts, at 
first, whether he was a private or a Captain, but found 
that he was a corporal. He was mounted on a compact 
little bay, called, in Texas, a pony ; a long revolver was 
stuck in his belt ; a lariat rope loosely coiled hung on 
the saddle-bow ; his bright Springfield rifle was balanced 
across the pommel, and with his broad hat and heavy, 
jangling Spanish spurs, he formed a brilliant picture of 
a Wild Texan. As some little changes and arrange- 
ments were wanting and the lieutenant was not in sight, 
I addressed myself to the corporal, and asked if he 



60 PRISON CAMPS. 

would order a halt for a moment. " Why to be sure I 
will," was his very ready reply, followed up with the; 
order, "JSTow, halt here, men, and let these prisoners 
put their little tricks on the wagon ; there is no need of 
their packing them." 

"We took advantage of the halt to lash some sticks to 
the sides of the wagon and to spread upon them our 
blankets, so as to form an awning over Lieutenant Ste- 
venson. But the sun beat down hotter and hotter. At 
the next halt, one of us took a canteen from the end of 
the wagon — the water was hot, so incredibly hot that 
the others were called up to feel it, and all agreed that 
its heat was painful. My first impression was, that this 
intense burning heat would blister us. But the damp 
Louisiana atmosphere caused floods of perspiration, 
pouring over the exposed face and hands, and soaking 
quickly through every garment. Faces grew more and 
more flushed ; conversation flagged and soon ceased. 
Tliose who, at the beginning, rattled away cheerfully, 
walked in moody silence near each other, occasionally 
exchanging distressed looks, but rarely, if ever, speaking 
a word. 

About mid-day the expected shower of the rainy sea- 
son came down on us furiously. We drew up under 
some trees, and stood close against the leeward side of 
their trunks, until it blew over. The diflerent charac- 
teristics of the three parties who were gathered there 
immediately developed. The L-ishmen laughed, hulla- 
baloed, pushed each other out in the rain, and treated 



THE MARCH. 61 

the affair as a capital joke. Tlie J^ortlierners sliifted 
tlieir positions, and attempted improvements, while the 
rain was at the worst — grumbled a great deal, and 
hurled fierce denunciations at, wdiat they called, their 
'' luck." The Southerners silently unrolled their blan- 
kets, folded them around their shoulders, looked upward 
at the storm with their usual sad indifference of expres- 
sion, made no attempts to better their condition, and 
waited apathetically till it was over. 

A prairie spread out for several miles immediately 
beyond our sheltering trees, and the road curved around 
its outskirts. It was a j^rairie, but a tame one ; inter- 
spersed with fields ; pastured by cattle ; surrounded by 
houses, and looking like any dull, uninteresting plain. 
Its grass, however, was thick and wet, and its sticky 
black mud soon loaded our boots and almost glued us 
fast. The coolness of the air quickly vanished, and the 
sun, more burning than ever, re-appeared. We dragged 
on wearily, very wearily, casting wistful glances at the 
grove on the other side, which rose very slowly, and, for 
a long time, seemed as distant as when we started. At 
last, however, we manifestly drew nearer ; the chimneys 
of a house could be distinguished in the foliage, and the 
guard cheered us with the assurance that it was the 
house at which we were to halt. Every one made a 
last effort, and after half an hour's exertion, we dragged 
ourselves out of the muddy prairie and into a plantation 
yard, bordering on the Teche. 

We sat there waiting for the wagon, and watching a 



PRISON CAMPS. 



small drove of hoors that had come down the bank of 
the bayou, and, half immersed, were greedily eating the 
green scum that covered the water. The lieutenant had 
bought provisions at the house, and hired the contra- 
bands to cook for us. The dinner finally appeared, con- 
sisting of a large kettle of boiled beef, and a quantity of 
corn bread in the shape of little rolls. It did not impress 
"US favorably ; but the guard seemed to think it excel- 
lent — perhaps because toiled beef was a rarity — perhaps 
because the corn bread was a superior article, (I was not 
a judge of it then) ; and one, with charming sim- 
plicity, said, " If we do as well as this, it will do !" To 
which rhapsody one of my disgusted friends was obliged 
to respond, with a faint and sickly smile, " Yes, yes ; it 
is very nice." 

The place of bivouac that night was in the grass-cov- 
ered yard, or rather field, of one of the finest plantations 
on the Teche. The owner soon appeared, accompanied 
by his son, his son-in-law, and a friend. He was an old 
gentleman, dressed with the scrupulous taste and neat- 
ness of a Frenchman, and treated us with as much 
politeness and as little kindness as could very well be 
united. The son-in-law regaled us with a description of 
the manner in whicKsome of our troops had plundered 
his house, and burnt his furniture ; and the friend sat 
himself down, and opened with the invariable remark, 
" We consider this a most unnatural war, sir ;" which 
he followed up with the invariable question, " When do 
you think there will be peace, sir?" To these I gave 



THE MARCH. 63 

my invariable replies, that we also tlioiiglit it a most un- 
natural war, and that there would be peace whenever 
the Southern soldiers chose to go home and take care of 
their own aifairs. The gentleman seemed very much 
disgusted at the idea of having peace on such simple and 
easy terms, and said solemnly, that he couldn't allow 
himself to believe it. 

There was a large open shed beside us, but the ground 
was covered with fleas, and we preferred the wet grass 
and heavy dew of a Louisiana night, to these pests of a 
tropical climate. But few sle]3t well. For a long time 
I felt too tired to close my eyes, and awoke repeatedly, 
aching in every part. When daylight dawned we rose 
so stiff and sore that we could hardly move, and with 
renewed apprehensions made ready for another day. 
Lieutenant Stevenson showed such increased exhaustion 
that the Confederate officer took me aside and said, that 
he would not be guilty of carrying him beyond New 
Iberia. 

We started, not at daylight, as was intended, but a 
long time after the sun was up. With all such parties 
there are many petty causes of delay, and it requires an 
iron-handed commander to bear them down, and carry 
his party off at the aj)pointed hour. Lieutenant Duncan 
was too good-natured for this, and instead of coercing us, 
he, on the contrary, told us to choose our own time, and 
not to start till we were ready. The delay brought 
down the burning sun again upon us, and the pain and 
weariness of this second day much exceeded those of the 
first. 



64 



PEISON CAMPS. 



As we thus toiled along, the road, which was ru, 
ning between nn-inclosed fields, approached a tall ra 
fence. Three or four of us were walking a few yards i 
advance of the guard, when we heard the corporal shoi 
from behind, '' Take care of the bull ! Take care of th 
bull !" I looked ahead and saw nothing very alarmingi 
a large red bull was drawing himself up, and lashing hii 
sides with his tail. After a moment or two, however 
he started toward us, shaking his head and breaking 
into a low, deep bellow. He was a magnificent animal 
with long, low, si3reading horns, and moved in a fullj 
square trot that many a horse might envy. There was 
a scramble at once for the fence which stood very nearly 
midway between us and the bull What the result 
might have been I think somewhat doubtful, had not the: 
gallant corporal, on his bright little bay, rushed past us 
on a gallop. The pony was a herding pony and under- 
stood his business. Like a spirited dog, he flew straight ; 
at the bnll until they nearly touched, then wheeling he 
kept alongside, watching him closely and sheering off 
whenever the long horns made a lunge toward himself. 
The pony did this of his own accord, for, as he wheeled, 
his rider held the rifie in his left-hand and was drawing 
the long revolver with his right, and these Texan horses 
are rarely taught to wheel from the pressure of the leg. 
A finer picture of intelligent instinct than this pony pre- 
sented could hardly be painted : his ears erect, his eyes 
flashing, and his whole soul in the chase. The corporal 
was not slower than his horse. He brought the long re- 
volver up ; a shot flashed, and the poor beast received a 



THE MARCH. 65 

heavy wound. This diverted his attention from iis, for, 
with a loud bellow, he wheeled toward the corporal. 
iBut the pony's eye was on him, and, quicker than spur 
or rein could make him, he also wheeled, and sconredoff 
across the plain faster than any bull could go. The cor- 
poral brought up the rifle, and there was a second flash 
• — a second Avound, for the bull staggered, and then 
walked slowly and proudly away. Occasionally he 
stoj^ped, turned defiantly round, uttered deep bellowings, 
and shook at us his splendid horns. 

The incident afl'orded us a little excitement, and led 
me into a conversation with the corporal, who narrated 
anecdotes of the wonderful intelli2:ence of herdino: 
ponies. The heat, the dust, the glaring sun, and increas- 
ing pain and weariness at length stopped even a conver- 
sation on so interesting a topic as horses are and ever 
will be, and I was fain to drag myself along without 
expending an ounce of strength on any object beyond 
the dusty road. We entered upon the last two miles, 
and saw Iberia in the distance. The road ran between 
hedges twenty feet high — it was filled with a long 
column of dust — not a breath of outer air disturbed it, 
and the sun shone directly down from his noon-day 
height. I felt myself grow weaker and weaker as we 
advanced through this green boiler. The perspii-ation 
poured into my eyes and blinded me — my head whirled 
round— my feet stumbled and dragged, so that every 
step seemed almost the last. While in this critical state, a 
couple of pretty Louisiana " young ladies " stopped their 



66 PRISON CAMPS. 

carriage, and greatly refreshed me by expressing the 
hope that we should be hung at the end of the lane, and 
the opinion that hanging was quite as good treatment 
as jigger-thieves deserved. Such was the power of this 
well-timed stimulus, that I kept on for more than a mile, 
and at last found that I was in the midst of the little 
town of 'New Iberia. 

We halted in the shade of some large trees. There 
seemed to be an unusual number of vagabonds in Kew 
Iberia, who congregated closely round us, and asked 
impudent questions (generally as to how we liked the 
war now), until it occurred to our guards that this might 
be annoying to us, and then they very promptly drove 
the Iberian loafers back. One cowardly-looking, black- 
eyed little rascal, however, was very desirous of finding 
an officer of the Twenty-first Indiana amongst us that 
he might kill him, and repeatedly hinted that he had a 
great mind to kill one of us anyhow. But one of the 
guard quieted him by the suggestion that if he wanted 
to kill a Yank, he'd find plenty of them over on the 
Mississippi, and that he'd better go there instead of 
skulking round in the rear — anyhow, he'd better stop 
insulting prisoners, or he'd have a right smart chance to 
kill a Texan — dog-goned if he wouldn't. 

Soon after this, an officer of the Provost Guard 
apj)eared. The roll of the '' citizen prisoners " was called 
over, and all but six marched off to the jail. We were 
put in motion, and marched to the outskirts of the town, 
where we halted beside a saw-mill standing on the bank 



THE MAKCir. 6T 

)f the Teche. The lieutenant then brought a surgeon, 
who speedily pronounced in favor of receiving Lieutenant 
Stevenson, and directed tliat he should be taken at once 
to his hospitaL 

During the afternoon, our kind and courteous French 
friend. Lieutenant Solomon, appeared, to take us to the 
hospital, and thence to his own house. I asked Lieu- 
tenant Duncan for a guard, and lie politely sent one of 
his men with us. One of my officers walked with me to 
the hospital. It was in a church, and at its extreme end 
we found Lieutenant Stevenson. He looked wretched, 
and my hopes sank as I saw him. Tlie church was 
crowded with Confederate sick, and he was the only 
prisoner there. Yet there was no alternative. We 
knew that if he were carried along, a sadder parting 
would soon ensue. Faintly hoping that we should 
again see him, and inwardly praying that he might find 
the friends he sorely needed, we bade him farewell. 

The French lieutenant rejoined us in the street, and 
led the way to his own house. He wished, he said, to 
present us to Madame, and ofier us some slight refresh- 
ment, which was not good, but was better than we 
might enjoy again. We soon reached his house, and 
were presented to Madame, who received us with the 
grace and politeness of a French lady. The slight 
refreshment, doubtless, was preparing, and we were 
comfortably waiting to enjoy it, when a patriot soldier 
of the Confederacy, with the villainous look peculiar to 
those of Louisiana, stuck his gun and then his head in 
the room, and said sulkily, that the Provost Marshal 



PEISON CAMPS. 



wanted vis. Our worthy lieutenant accompanied usj« 
saying, "Ob, surely it must be a mistake; somebodyis 
has told him you are making an escape. He will let* 
you return to my house, and you shall stay all the after- « 
noon." Arrived at the Provost Marshal's, the Louisiana i 
patriot left us on the sidewalk, and stepped in to inform 
the august official that we were in waiting. That m"- 
nate immediately came forth-a youthful, swarthy 
small-sized, unwashed Louisianian, with a consequential! 
a.r, and a vagabond face. " Take these fellows back to 
your camp," he said, addressing our Texan guard. " I 
won't have prisoners running about my town." As he 
said this, he honored us with a vicious stare, and then 
banged back into his office. 

There was no resisting this eloquence, so hack we 
went. Our guard, who had been very silent, became 
very talkative. He swore pardonable oaths at the 
Louisianians in general, and the Provost Marshal in 
particular. As to the former, he said they were all a 
disgrace to the South; and as to the latter, that if ever 
^e got a chance, he'd scalp Ai,n-dog-gone if he wouldn't 
In camp, his excitement extended to the rest. Our gal- 
lant fr end the corporal, was especially indignant. 

What, he said, " he spoke so right before you 
witaout your having insulted him. The dog-gone 1 ttle 
puppy, f I'd been there, Pd have slapped hi^ face, a" d 
then run for Texas. There's just such ducks everywhere 
and most of all in Louisiana. Dog-gone them-Pd like' 
to shoot the whole of them." 

Our wounded honor being soothed by these chivalric 



THE MAECH. 69 

entiments, and a shower of rain coming up about tlie 
ame time, we retired to the saw-mill, where we selected 
;oft planks, swept away the saw-dust, and made ready 
or the night. About dark. Lieutenant Duncan returned, 
\;vith anger and mortification glowing in his face. He 
had not been able to get fresh mules or a good wagon, 
or full rations, or even a wagon coyqy, for prisoners^ and 
he was vexed and wrathful at the refusals he had met. 
" I tell you what it is, though, gentlemen," he said, 
" you shall be taken care of, and have the best this 
country can give you, if I take it out of their houses 
with my revolver. It's not so in Texas, gentlemen. 
There our people haven't got much, but they will give 
you what they have." In fiict, the good lieutenant 
was so chagrined and mortified, that I had to assure him 
that we were not children, and would rather undergo a 
little extra hardship, than put him to further trouble. 
But while afiairs were gliding in this harmonious and 
humane channel within the saw-mill, some wicked imp 
suggested to our friend, the Provost Marshal, the feasi- 
bility of his bestowing on us another kick. Hardly had 
the lieutenant wiped the perspiration from his brow, and 
looked around for a dry plank on which to sleep, when 
a second Louisiana patriot, dirtier even than the first, 
appeared. He delivered an order to the lieutenant. It 
w^as to pack up and be oif instantly — he, the Provost 
Marshal, wouldn't have prisoners camping in his town 
over night. 

We accordingly packed up and went ofi*, not more 
th^'^ a hundred yards (for the saw-mill was on the 



70 PEISON CAMPS. I 

boundary of the town), and stopped at an abandoned 
barn, just beyond tlie Provost Marshal's jurisdiction. 
Tlie barn was dirty — the ground around it muddy — the 
fleas were hale and hearty — and these little circum- 
stances added a great deal of force to the thanks which 
the guard lavished on the Provost Marshal. Yet we 
looked forward with hopefulness to the morrow, for then 
we were to turn oif from the Teche, and leaving civili- 
zation and the hateful Louisianians behind us, strike 
off, undisturbed, on the free prairies. 



THE PRAIEIES. 71 



V. 

THE PEAIEIES. 

The road ran, :^r several miles, between hedges and 
among plantations, and close to gardens and houses, with 
their fields and fences, until it suddenly emerged on a 
broad, unbounded prairie. Our guards' eyes sparkled 
when they saw it, and they declared that this began to 
look like Texas. We all felt better at the sight, and the 
fresh breeze that swept over it almost swept away the 
weary weakness of the previous days. There is a pro- 
found sense of loneliness and littleness on these great 
seas of green far exceeding that which men feel in for- 
ests. There is such an absence of objects — such long 
distances appearing to the eye, and before which the 
feet grow feeble — such a want of all shelter and protec- 
tion, that one wishes for the woods, and acknowledges a 
companionship in hills and trees beyond all that he has 
ever known before. 

A long noon-day halt was made at a Frenchman's, 
whose Avrctched shanty stood environed by a beautiful 
grove of the deej)-shading China tree ; and, during the 
afternoon, we found the prairie interspersed with small 
plantations. These took away the sense of loneliness, 



72 PPJSON CA2IPS. 

and, in some respects, added to the interest of the march. 
There was a good stiff breeze, too, blowing directly from 
the west, (to which we travelled) and all moved cheer- 
fully along, shaking off fatigue and forgetting, for the 
time, that we were prisoners. As the sun approached 
his setting, we descended by a gently sloping plain 
toward a wood that marks and hides Yermillion Bayou. 
While it was still a mile or two distant, we turned from 
the wagon-trail and made our way across the prairie to 
a plantation, whose large white house and numerous 
ont-buildings peered forth from a grove of over-hanging 
trees. 

The plantation was owned by a lady, who kindly 
allowed her servants to cook our supper, and gave us 
her lawn to bivouac upon. She also invited Mr. and 
Mrs. Stratford to occupy a room in her house, and 
showed the rare good taste and delicacy of not coming 
out to stare at ns. W.3 found ourselves still connected 
witli civilized lifo ; for supper was spread out hand- 
somely in the dining-room, and was accompanied by the 
luxury of real French coffee, served in delicate china. 

We started earlier than usual the next morning, and 
soon crossed the strip of prairie between us and the Yer- 
million. The belt of wood was not more than half a mile 
in breadth, and near its farther edge we found a narrow, 
sluggish stream, almost bridged by the ferry-scow, yet 
deep in mud, and with miry banks that made it difficult 
to cross. As we waited for the wagon that was slowly 
rumbling along, we discovered below the ferry, closely 



THE PKATEIES. 73 

drawn up against tlie bank and almost hidden by tlie 
trees, a full ri2:2:ed schooner, that had eluded the watch- 
fulness of our blocliadcrs, and escaped the eyes of our 
cavalry, and now lay snugly waiting for the proper time 
to glide down the bayou and escape on the open sea. 

The wagon rolled up while ^we were scanning and 
discussing the little blockade runner, and we began our 
crossing. It was not a labor of very great importance, 
for when one end of the scow had been pushed a few 
feet from the eastern bank, the other end ran into the 
western. We found the latter much higher than the 
former, being, in Southern phrase, " something of a 
bluff." On mounting it, we saw a rolling prairie spread- 
ing out like a lake of green, and enclosed by distant 
woods which seemed its shore. The " timber," (as for- 
ests in the West are called,) was four or five miles dis- 
tant on either side, and, to the front of us, sank down 
behind the far-oif horizon. I^umerous herds were in 
sight ; and troops of young cattle would draw up and 
stare at us. They were not the " fine stock " of our good 
breeders; yet, still were beautiful creatures — straight- 
backed, fine-boned, and with heads gracefully carried 
and erect. When our shouts startled them into motion, 
they carried themselves off with the same high horse-like 
trot I had been struck with in our bull on the Teche, and 
then, breaking into an easy gallop, bounded away like 
deer. The guards repeatedly warned us to keep near 
the horsemen, and said, that these cattle of the prairies 
did not know what a man a-foot was, and were so 

4 



74 PEISON CAMPS. 

wild that they would attack ns if we ventured near 
them. 

The guard had been improving daily since we left 
Franklin. 'No formal parole was given by us, yet there 
was an informal one which we respected, and in which 
they placed implicit confidence. They behaved, too, 
with great kindness, constantly dismounting and making 
first one and then another of us ride. Our column 
broke up into little parties of twos and threes, the faster 
walkers opening gaps on those who took it more leisurely, 
and each one travelling at whatever rate he best liked. 
After five or six miles of this, three of us, with a like 
number of the guard, reached a little house that stood 
alone in the prairie. The guards showed their appreci- 
ation of our honor, by handing us their horses and rifles 
to take care of while they went into the house. After 
a while they returned, and showed their appreciation of 
our appetites by bringing us a pail full of milk for a 
drink. 

We watched the difierent parties that dotted the 
prairie for a mile or two behind us, until they severally 
came up, wiping the perspiration from their faces and 
throwing themselves on the grass beside us. The wagon 
overtook us last, and then we rose and resumed the 
march. The prairie continued to present the same rich 
picture of beautiful seclusion. Occasionally its timber- 
shores approached each other, and sometimes they 
opened into successive lakes. Yet, with all this beauty, 
we found ourselves becoming hot and weary. There 



THE PEAIRIES. 75 

were no way-side trees to caot an occasional shade, and 
ao brooks or springs at which to halt and re-fill canteens. 
The usual morning breeze that sweeps across the prairies, 
as across the sea, went down, and wistful ejes were 
thrown at a distant plantation which we saw embowered 
in trees. Where the road to this cool retreat branched 
olF, Lieutenant Duncan ordered a halt, and then, with his 
usual kindness, asked us to decide whether we would go 
to the plantation and rest till evening, or push on and 
finish our day's work before we halted. There was some 
little difference of opinion. Certain thirsty individuals, 
who kept up a constant sucking at their canteens, 
declared that they were nearly choked, notwithstanding 
the three pints of water each had swallowed; others, 
who had drunk nothing since we started, were in favor 
of pushing on. It ended in the lieutenant sending one 
of his men, laden with canteens, to the plantation, and 
in our resuming the m^rch. 

The Texan put his '' pony" on the easy amble, which is 
the leading trait of a Southern horse, and struck off in 
a straight line toward the distant house. We could see 
the horse and rider gradually sinking in the prairie as 
they receded from us, until not much could be discerned 
beside the wide-brimmed Texan hat. There was a little 
interval, and then horse and rider re-appeared, striking 
off at an angle which would intercept our line of march, 
and travelling on the same easy amble. The horses of 
the Texan s, I must confess, had greatly disappointed me. 
Half of them were miserable, ill-shaped ponies, which 



76 PRISON CAMPS. 

could never have made or withstood a charge, and were 
unworthy of the name of cavalry horses. And yet these 
mounted troops of the Confederates have shown a won- 
derful readiness and swiftness of movement, which have 
often outwitted our generals and eluded our strategy, 
and that too, in a country where our horses would have 
starved. This great " mobility " I ascribe, in part, to the 
ambling gait (forbidden in our service) which carries 
them along some five miles an hour, without strain to 
the horse or fatigue to the rider ; and, in part, to the free 
use of the lariat, which enables the horse to graze at 
every momentary halt. Man and horse understood this 
latter principle, for the former never dismounted with- 
out twitching off the bridle, and the latter never stopped 
without industriously picking up his living. In one re- 
spect the Texans are careless of their horses, tearing off 
the saddles the moment they halt, and never dreaming 
of cold water either as a preventi^sie or a cure of the sore 
back that tortures nearly every horse. 

While I was making these reflections, our column had 
stretched out in its usual manner, and then broken into 
small groups : these separated more and more as we ad- 
vanced. The guards told us that Turtle-Tail Bayou was 
to be our camping ground, and they pointed to the tim- 
ber, which looked like a low cloud along the horizon. 
How long this cloud was in changing into trees, and how 
slowly these trees rose in view, no one can imagine who 
has not travelled a-foot upon the prairies. The sun sent 
down his usual burning rays as he approached the me- 



THE PRAIRIES. 77 

ridian, and a damp stifling heat rose from the grass. 
Yet it is a great thing to be first in camp, and able 
thereby to choose your own tree, and label it " taken," 
by pitching your haversack at its foot, and to lie down 
and rest ere the slow walkers arrive. So the two or 
three of us who led pushed on. The trees came slowly 
more and more into view; the branches imperceptibly 
rose ; the grass beneath them appeared. Then the cor- 
poral and his men left us and rode on to select the camp- 
ing ground. We follow^ed slowlier on their trail, keep- 
ing our eyes upon them until we saw them dismount 
wdiere timber and prairie met — unsaddle and turn loose 
their horses, the welcome signs of our coming rest. The 
sight gave vigor to our halting feet — on, on, without a 
stop, though it was two miles, as the bird flies, to the 
nearest tree. On, on, until panting and streaming, I 
tear oflT my hat and haversack and drop them, with my- 
self, at the foot of a spreading oak. 

There is no rest like that which comes after such 
exercise. I see again the little groups drawing nearer 
across the prairie ; coming in with sun-tinted faces and 
dripping brows ; speaking no w^ords, unless a few tired 
monosyllables ; casting quick glances round for some 
smooth, shaded sj^ot of turf, then walking there and 
dropping down. And last of all, the heavy, lumbering 
wagon rumbling up; its tired passengers jolted, and 
jaded, and cross, and broiled, yet still willing to find, 
with particular care, a spot that pleases them, wdiilst the 
teamster pulls the clattering harness from the mules, 



78 PRISON CAMPS. 

turns them loose upon the prairie, and, like the others, 
drops down to silence and repose. 

Honr npon hour thus passed, partly in sleep and 
partly in a dreamy languor of delicious rest. Then came 
a little restlessness and glances at the sun — then the blue 
smoke of a fresh-kindled camp-fire, and assertions that 
A. and B. had risen, and were preparing (for themselves) 
the one important meal. When such assertions had been 
repeated twice or thrice around me, the ground, which 
at first was softer than dow^n, began to grow hard, and 
withal somewhat knobby. I arose, and went with Lieu- 
tenant Sherman to find the bayou. It was a stagnant 
bed of poly wogs, not ten feet wide nor ten inches deep. 
Crawling out on a log, nevertheless, and skimming oif the 
green, slimy scum, w^e dipped up the water and enjoyed, 
as we had seldom enjoyed before, the luxury of a bath. 
Returning to the camp-fire, we found that the guards, 
mindful of their prisoners' more tired condition, were 
baking " dodgers" for all hands, and that the " dodgers" 
were nearly done. 

One of us quickly clambered into the wagon, and cut 
from the side of bacon a couple of slices, while the other 
sharpened two slender sticks. The bacon, skewered on 
these, was speedily toasted over the fire. A slice of 
" dodge^r" took the place of plates and dishes ; our 
pocket-knives were also spoons and forks ; and 3^et this 
Texan supper in the open air, cooked by oneself, and 
eaten after a twenty mile march and a twelve hour fast, 
is as delicious a meal as was ever served. The blan- 



THE PEAIEIES. 79 

kets were spread ere the dew fell. We lay gazing on 
tlie stars, smoked lazily, and talked of to-morrow's march, 
till it grew dark. To me this camp brought back all 
the interest of an old cavalry bivouac with some of its 
most unpleasant parts left out. The sense of responsi- 
bility was now gone. I had no anxiety or duty beyond 
tliat of taking care of myself. There were no guards 
for me to post ; no pickets to visit ; no rounds to make, 
and no prisoners to watch. 

Again the blankets were rolled — the bacon toasted — 
the dodger divided, and a cup of tea made. Of tired 
nature's sweet restorer, English breakfast tea — so much 
perverted and abused in civilized life — we had a little 
canister, and wondrous were the works which that little 
canister performed. Its few ounces of simple-looking 
herb — so light — so portable — so bulkless, seemed to con- 
tain strength sufficient for an army. Those who sipped 
it, though weary and faint, grew strong and cheer- 
ful : those who disliked it at home, confessed that it 
tasted like nectar on the march. Ere the last sip was 
taken, the corporal mounted the wagon and said, " l^ow, 
gentlemen, please to pack along your little tricks." The 
'^ little tricks" were safely stowed by the gallant cor- 
poral, on top of the rations ; the sick and lame were 
stowed on top of them ; Mrs. Stratford took the seat re- 
served for her; the well "fell in," and again we 
started. 

The road crossed the timber-belt, and emerged on 
a lake-like prairie. It was that hour when the soft light 



80 PRISON CAMPS. 

of the morning lieiglitenecl the peculiar beauty which 
this march revealed. The rising sun gilded the tree- 
tops beside us, and tinged the soft expanse before. Tlie 
herds were moving slowly ; some so near that we could 
hear the sullen bellow of the bulls ; and some so distant 
that we could see only their long horns moving above the 
green, looking like wild fowl floating on the surface of 
the grassy sea. The prairie rose and fell in occasional 
swells, the distant timber swept around it in the grace- 
ful windings of a serpentine shore, and islets of trees 
waved upon the bosom of this green and wood-bound 
lake. 

Before the morning passed, I had an illustration 
of a folly which pervades our army. The guards had 
warned us that it was sixteen miles across this prairie, 
and until it should be crossed, we should find no water. 
Every canteen was therefore filled, as was a two-gallon 
keg that had followed me through the lines. Several 
years ago, Lieutenant-Colonel Frederick Townsend, of 
the Eighteenth United States Infantry, in recounting to 
me his sufi'erings while crossing the Gila desert, had laid 
great stress upon the fact, that during the journey he 
had made it a rule to go without drinking till he halted 
for the night. Eemembering this when I entered the 
army, I subjected myself to like discipline, drinking only 
when I ate. A single week made this a habit, and left 
me comparatively comfortable and independent. On 
this morning, I accordingly loaned my canteen to some 
one foolish enough to need it, and walked along without 



THE PEATRIES. 81 

the slightest feeling of thirst. It was not eleven o'clock, 
and we had not marched six hours, when we came to a 
puddle of water, tilling the wagon-track. The water 
was apparently the result of some local shower ; it was 
clear, but the road was dirty, and on one side, lying in 
the water, were the putrid remains of an ox. I was 
turning out to go around the puddle, when I heard my 
friends behind shout to me to stop. 

" What for ?" I asked, in much amazement at the 
idea of halting in the wettest spot we could find. 

" Why, for a drink." 

'' A drink ! What, drink that filthy water ?" 

Yes, they were thirsty enough to drink anything. 
They must drink something ; .the canteens and keg had 
been empty two hours. With accelerated speed, tliey 
hurried to the margin of the puddle. Some knelt down 
and drank, others ladled it up in their mugs, and several 
actually filled their canteens with the decoction. Thus 
had the little period of six hours swept away the 
niceties of men who, in their own homes, would have 
sickened at the thought of this loathsome draught ; and 
thus did a childish habit destroy the whole pleasure 
of their walk, hide all the beauties of the landscape, 
divert their attention from objects of interest, and sub- 
ject them to a needless annoyance, sometimes little less 
than torture. 

The following day passed much like the others — our 
road still leading us across several wood- encircled 
prairies^ separated from each other by narrow timber- 

4* 



82 PRISON CAMPS. 

belts and trivial, dried-iip bayous. Early in the after- 
noon, after a marcli of twenty- three miles, we reached a 
bayou j)ossessed of two or three names. From these, I 
selected as the one easiest to be remembered, " Indian," 
and after crossing the place where the water of Indian 
Bayou ought to have been, I found that we were to 
encamp beyond the " timber," and in a little grove. 
This word " grove " is in constant use through western 
Louisiana and Texas, and when first heard, it strikes the 
educated ear as a specimen of the fine talk so common 
in all parts of our country. But when these natural 
grooves are seen, the purest taste acknowledges that the 
word is not misapplied. The one in which we now 
encamped was an oval clump of the live-oak, so clear 
and clean below, so exact and regular in form, that one 
could hardly believe nature had not been aided by the 
gardener's art. 

The next morning our breakfast disclosed the fact, 
that the Confederate bacon ration is not so large as the 
military appetite. The lieutenant informed me that he 
had no intention of starving in the midst of plenty, and 
had sent forward two men to shoot a yearling, near a 
certain bayou, and there we would halt and "barbecue" 
the meat. From the time of leaving the Teche, the 
prairies had been steadily growing drier. The atmos- 
phere, too, was clearer, .the sky brighter, the air more 
bracing and elastic, and though the sun was intensely 
hot, yet there was not the damp, vaporous heat that is 
so oppressive in the lower prairies of Louisiana. This 



THE PEAIKIES. 83 

day we were to cross a "dry-prairie," and as we had at 
last succeeded in an early start {4:-4:5), we reached it 
before tlie heat of the day had begun. A very dreary 
waste it was, unenlivened by the usual herds, its scanty 
herbage dried and withered up, and its wide expanse 
barren and desolate. It was, if I remember aright, nine 
miles across, but seemed much farther, for the road was 
soft and sandy, and with every breeze, a cloud of dust 
travelled down upon us. As the nine miles lessened 
into one, and the stunted trees that bordered the dry- 
prairie came in view, our two beef-hunters also could be 
seen driving down their half-wild game toward the 
road. Being somewhat in advance, I struck off to join 
them. Ere I accomplished this, a young heifer broke 
from the herd and bounded away. Instantly one of the 
rifles flashed and the heifer fell. The shot attracted the 
corjDoral, and in a moment his little bay was coming pell- 
mell across the broken ground, leaping some gullies and 
scrambling in and out of others, until he threw himself 
back on his haunches beside us. The corporal looked 
with great interest at what they called the " yuhliu," 
inquired how far they had driven it (some eight miles), 
and enlarged on our great luck in getting so fat a "beef" 
on so poor a " range." 

It was somewhat of a mystery to me how the " y uhlin " 
would be carried to camp. When I asked whether the 
wagon, or perhaps the leading pair of mules, would be 
brought round to tow it in, the corporal laughed, and 
said in his merry way, that he would show us how they 



84 PRISON CAMPS. 

carried their game home in Texas. Forthwith he took 
his ever-useful lariat, and making fast one end to the 
" yuhlin's " horns, wound the other round the horn of 
his Mexican saddle. Oiie of the men attached another 
in like manner, and thus harnessed, the two horses 
dragged the heifer as they would a log. The saddles, 
girthed for " roping " cattle, did not yield, and the 
horses tugged away with as much unconcern as though 
they were pulling by the ordinary collar and traces. 

The mile between us and the halting-place was soon 
passed over, and all hands seemed to feel a deep, 
immediate interest in the '^ yuhlin." Although we had 
marched eighteen miles that morning, it was not eleven 
o'clock ; nevertheless there were suggestions of fresli 
steaks, and the deserter (who really seemed to try to 
eat all he could, so as to be in some measure even with 
men who had less ripened chances of being shot) pro- 
ceeded to bake a dodger. The corporal had unsaddled 
his horse in a trice, and was now elbow deep in break- 
ing up the " yuhlin." Another corporal — a quiet, hard- 
working, unassuming German — prepared the frame 
for barbecuing the meat. This consisted of poles placed 
horizontally, about three feet from the ground. Beneath 
it a slow fire was made, and the meat, cut up in thin 
slices, was spread on the poles. In three or four hours 
it was partly dried and partly cooked into a half-hard 
state, and was then said to be barbecued. Meanwhile 
an army of hogs came out of the woods, lean and 
savage, and grunted impatiently for their share of the 



THE PEAIEIES. 85 

" jiihlin." A smaller but not less impatient party 
waited, with drawn knives and sharpened sticks, till the 
steaks could be cut, and then hurried with them to their 
several fires. A steak thus cooked upon hard-wood 
embers retains a flavor that the best French chef^ with 
charcoal range, only approaches. And when this flavor 
is intensified by the fresh breezes of the prairie, and the 
long miles of a day's march, it is not wonderful that 
men affirm that steaks cut from buff'alo or stag, or 
even from a poor little half-tamed " yuhlin," are better 
than the best butcher's meat that can be bought at 
home. 

When the meat was all barbecued, we pushed forward 
for the Calcasieu. Tlie river formed a dividing line 
between a forest and a prairie country. At the foot of a 
slight bluff" was a flat-boat and rope-ferry. I learnt 
from the ferryman, with much surprise, that our '' gun- 
boat boats " had been up there, and captured a steamer 
and several schooners. I wished most ardently as we 
stepped aboard the flat, that they might re-appear at 
that particular moment, and enable us to return the 
good treatment of our guards, by providing for their 
wants in New Orleans. The wish was not realized, and 
the scow, like a gentler craft, wafted us to the other 
shore. There an unexpected individual hailed our 
approach, in the person of a bright-looking mule, who, 
solitary and sad, was travelling briskly toward the 
ferry. The corporal, who, as usual, led, answered the 
mule in his way, and quickly uncoiled the lariat. The 



86 PRISON CAMPS. 

mule tried a dodge, but the lariat flew straight over liis 
head and tight around his neck. The mule was fairly 
"roped." The corjDoral gave an inspiriting yell, and 
examined the brand. It was an unknown brand — a 
Louisianian brand — and the mule was therefore adjudged 
a lawful prize. 

Our road now wound through the green woods and 
along the bank of the winding river. The sun, which 
at first was behind us, moved round upon our left, then 
swung in front, then passed beside us on our right, then 
speedily changed back, and shone again before us. The 
foliage screened the river, but frequent openings un- 
covered views of these river-bends, and of the clear, 
dark water flowing beside us. Could a section of the 
Calcasieu be cut out and transplanted to the environs of 
some great city, the rich luxuriance of its banks, clad 
with verdure from the vines that trail upon the water to 
the tops of the tall firs and deep-green magnolias that 
overhang the stream — its constant windings and its 
graceful curves, would be deemed a marvel of pictu- 
resque beauty. Yet here the traveller finds in it only a 
dull monotony of never-ceasing turnings, and sees in the 
beautiful foliage of its banks, only a dreary loneliness. 
I listened to a Texan's description, and doubted 
whether it had ever received an admiring glance before 
my own. This wood, too, through which we marched, 
was not the foul swam^) of eastern Louisiana. There 
was the cool, deep shade, the dreamy stillness, the sweet, 
wild perfume of our northern forests. The trees aided, 



THE PEAIKIES. 87 

too, in the brief delusion. We knew the rough branches 
of the oak and the needles of tlie ''fadeless pine." 
Large gum-trees deceived us into the belief that they 
were the maples of a '' sugar-bush ;" and dwarfed mag- 
nolias, at the first glance, took the semblance of the 
hickory. There was also a delightful refreshingness in 
the cool, shadeful river-bank, and our long march through 
prairies, exposed and shelterless, helped ns to realize 
" the sweet retirement " of the woods. 

For four miles we marched .with spirit and pleasure, 
although they made up the sum of twenty-five for that 
day's work. Then halting, on a sandy bluff covered 
with pines, we encountered a legion of troubles. The 
gnats were terrible — the mosquitoes fearful — the pine 
smoke spoilt our steaks — the fresh breeze of the prairie 
did not reach us — and our longest march was followed 
by a restless night. All the next day our road con- 
tinued in the "piny-woods." There were occasional 
openings, and the ground was clear of underbrush, yet 
most of the party wished themselves back on the prairie, 
and thought the light shade of the pines a poor return 
for the prairie breeze. As it was Sunday, we halted 
early, and the lieutenant told us that one day more 
would bring us to Mblett's Bluff. 

For two days we lay idle at the Bluff, with no better 
recreation than yawning and cooking. On 'the third, 
the Beaumont boat arrived. Some Yicksburg paroled 
prisoners had, meanwhile, come in, and they spoke of 
our soldiers in terms which were most cheering to 



88 PEISON CAMPS. 

US. They were as brave as men could "be — they had 
treated them like brothers — they had given them all the 
rations they could carry with them, and they had 
behaved '' a heap better everyway" than it was sup- 
posed Yankees could. They said this not only to us, but 
to other soldiers and citizens, and spoke up boldly on our 
behalf. The effect was agreeable, not in any material 
change, but in good feeling and in the greater kindliness 
with which we were treated. The boat started the next 
morning at daybreak. We descended the Sabine and 
ascended the leeches, reaching Beaumont in the even- 
ing. At this place there was a railway eating-house, 
that gave us a greasy breakfast, for a dollar and a half; 
we also bought sugar for a dollar a pound, and water- 
melons for a dollar apiece. These prices seemed enor- 
mous at tlie time, but subsequent experience makes 
them appear quite reasonable. 

We left the little town of Beaumont on an open plat- 
form car of the Houston train. Lieutenant Duncan 
made an effort to have us placed in the passenger cars, 
but they were full. The news of Yicksburg had reached 
here some time before us, and the coming of the Yicks- 
burg prisoners was expected. At every station were 
anxious faces, sometimes made glad and sometimes going 
away more anxious than they came. At one of these, 
there were two women, evidently a mother and her 
daughter. The train had hardly stopped, when I heard 
a shriek, which sounded like one of agony, but was 
instantly followed by the words, " O my son, I'm so 



THE PRAIEIES.. 89 

glad, I'm so glad, I'm so glad !" I looked and saw a 
fine young fellow, who had told ns many tales of the 
suiFei'ings of the siege, running toward the woman, and 
the next moment folded in her arms. Unconscious of 
the many eyes upon them, the mother hung upon his 
neck, and the sister held his hand. Some friends tossed 
him his roll of blankets, but it fell unnoticed. The train 
started, but they did not look around, and when we 
were far out upon the prairie, they still stood there ex- 
changing their eager words, and seemingly unconscious 
that we had left them. 

It was twilight when the train ran into Houston. A 
crowd was on the platform, made up of families and 
friends, who had come there to welcome their sons and 
brothers from the dreadful siege. There was a line of 
young girls upon the edge of the platform, and as our 
car was the first of the train, they of course saw us while 
lookino; for their friends. It was interestino^ to observe 
the different expressions that passed over the line of 
pretty faces as their eyes scanned us. At first a look 
of anxious interest — a shade of disappointment — a start 
of surprise — a slight shrinking back with side glances 
at each other and the whispered-word, '-'prisoners'''' — ■ 
and then, in most cases, a little glance of pity. But our 
car ran past them, and the next moment were heard the 
usual sounds that welcome long-absent soldiers to their 
homes — loud congratulations, eager inquiries, laughter 
and kisses. A little shade of sorrow, and perhaps of 
envy, fell on us. We stood a]3art, a small group un- 



90 PRISON CAMPS. 

noticed, as unknown. I tried to repress the dangerous 
feeling, but insensibly my tliouglits flew far away to 
those who would thus have welcomed us. 

The kindness of Lieutenant Duncan continued una- 
bated. We had shouldered our knapsacks, but he sent 
for carts, and insisted on conveying them for us. Before 
the Provost Marshal's, a small crowd assembled, but it was 
quiet and respectful. An officer of the provost guard 
came out. He took the roll and called it, made sure 
that all were present, and informed Lieutenant Duncan 
that he was relieved from the further charge of us. We 
were faced, and marched to what had been the Court 
House. Our old guard accompanied us. They at- 
tempted to carry in our things, but were stopped at the 
door. There they shook hands warmly, and wished us 
a speedy exchange. We turned down a dark stone pas- 
sage and entered a room. There were bars on the win- 
dow, and the moonlight fell in little checkered squares 
upon the dirty floor. The corporal of the guard brought 
in our baggage — sent out and bought us some bread — 
asked if we wanted anything else — and then drew out a 
key. With the sight of that key, all conversation 
ceased. It was a wand of silence. 'No one spoke or 
moved or looked elsewhere. Every eye remained fixed 
on the key. The corporal inserted it in the door. It 
went in slowly and grated horribly, unlike the grating 
of a house key, or an office key, or a safe key, or a stable 
key, or any kind of a .key, save one ! The corporal 
looked around and said, good night. No one had 



THE PEAIRIES. 91 

breatli enongli to respond. The corporal stepped out 
and the door closed, not with a bang or a slam or a 
crash, but with a heavy, ominous, awful sound. There 
was still an instant of suspense, a small infinitesimal 
fraction of a faint hope, and then the key turned, grating 
with an indescribable sound, such as none of us ever 
lieard key give forth before. With a great effort I with- 
drew my eyes from the door-lock, and looked around the 
room. All w^ere seated on their blankets, and ranged 
round, with their backs against the walls. The moon- 
light checkers still fell on the floor. I felt that some- 
body must speak, that if somebody did not speak soon, 
some of us would never speak again. I thought that I 
would speak — I made another great effort, and said : 

" What a singular sound a key makes when somebody 
else turns it ; did you ever remark it before ? I suppose 
you have." 

One man laughed — all laughed. Lieutenant Sher- 
man came promptly to my aid, and said : 

" How pretty that moonlight is on the floor ! Who 
cares for the bars." 

And then we had (apparently) a very jolly evening, 
in the dark. 

As this military prison has not a very good name 
among prisoners, and some who have been confined 
there have had to wait a day or two for rations, and 
then a day or two more to get them cooked, I feel bound 
to say that the guard brought us a very good breakfast 
the next morning, which I took to be a part of their 



92 PEISON CAMPS. 

own. They brought us also word that we should be 
sent by the morning cars to Camp Groce. 

With alacrity we shouldered our knapsacks, and lug- 
ged our remaining '' traps " to the cars ; and with a sense 
akin to freedom, we hui'ried away from those picturesque 
bars and that detestable lock. There was a little deten- 
tion at the depot, and then we were placed in a " first- 
class passenger car" with first-class passengers, and 
rolled along toward the prisoners' camp. The conductor 
soon came upon his rounds, and as he passed me, asked 
in a whisper, if there were any Massachusetts ofl&cers 
among the prisoners. He was a tall, fine-looking man, 
with the tightness and trimness of dress that no one ever- 
finds in a Southerner. I asked who he was, and learnt 
that he was Lieutenant-Governor B , of Massachu- 
setts. The fact w^aS even so — an ex-Lieutenant-Governor 
of Massachusetts was a conductor on the South Western 
Eaih'oad of Texas ! 

^' Here is your stopping-place, gentlemen," said the 
sergeant of our guard. We looked from tlie car win- 
dows, and saw long barracks of rough boards, like an 
enclosed cow-shed. In front was a pretty grove, and 
in the rear a sloping hill. At the doors of the barracks 
we saw clusters of blue-jackets, and a few sauntered 
around the buildings. We toiled up a sandy bank ; 
the roll was called, and we were "turned over" to 
the commanding officer. Captain Buster greeted us 
kindly, and said he was sorry to see us ; he had been a 
prisoner twenty-two months in the dungeons of Mexico, 



THE PRAIRIES. 93 

and knew wliat it was. He marshalled ns down to the 
barracks, and formally presented us to Captain Dilling- 
ham, the senior officer of the naval prisoners. "We 
entered the barracks. They were like most such build- 
ings, long and narrow, with bunks around the sides, and 
tables for the well and cots for the sick. The officers 
occupied the first compartment. They crowded around 
us, with eager questions, and showed us kindness and. 
hospitality beyond our expectations. We selected such 
bunks as were still empty, unpacked our knapsacks, and 
made our arrangements for the night, and the many 
niffhts that were to follow. We studied the faces of our 
new companions, and found that they were for the most 
part sick and sad. "We talked to them, and found that 
they were unhappy and dejected. Half a year's im- 
prisonment had manifestly changed them from energetic, 
active men, to listless, idle, irritable invalids. We asked 
ourselves whether it could have a like effect on us, and 
answered that it could not. 



94: PRISON CAMPS 



YI. 

CAMP GEOCE. 

It is not a pleasant thing to be a prisoner ; I never en 
joyed it, and never made the acquaintance of any prisoner 
who said that he did. True is it that you have but few 
cares and responsibilities. In the prisoners' camp you 
take no heed of what you shall eat, or what you shall 
drink, or wherewith you shall be clothed. If the rations 
come, you can eat them ; and if they do not, you can 
go without ; in neither case have your efforts any thing 
to do with the matter. Your raiment need not trouble 
you ; for there vanity has no place, and rags are quite 
as honorable as any other style of dress. You are never 
dunned by importunate creditors, and if, by possibility, 
you were, it would be a sufficient bar m law and equity 
to say that you would not pay. There you are not 
harassed by pressing engagements, or worried by clients 
or customers. There you have no fear of failure, and 
may laugh at bankruptcy. And yet, with all these ad- 
vantages, no man ever seeks to stay in this unresponsi- 
ble ]3aradise. 

" The dews of blessing heaviest fall 
Where care falls too." 



CAMP GEOCE. 95 

I found that there was a horrible sense of being a 
prisoner — of being in somebody's possession — of eating, 
drinking, sleeping, moving, living, by somebody's per- 
mission ; and worst of all, that somebody the very enemy 
you had been striving to overcome. There was a feel- 
ing of dependence on those who were the very last per- 
sons on whom you were willing to be dependent. There 
was a dreary sense of constraint in your freest hours, of 
being shut in from all the world, and having all the 
world shut out from you. 

In the first days of imprisonment the novelty carried 
the new prisoners along, and buoyed them up. Then 
came a season of work, when they built cabins and made 
stools and tables ; and then, a restless fit, when they felt 
most keenly the irksomeness of the life, and made foolish 
plans to escape, which (so the '' old prisoners " said) had 
been tried before and failed. Then the " new prisoners " 
would grow quiet and sad. The most of them would 
become idle, inert, neglectful of their dress and quarters, 
peevish and listless, despondent of exchange, yet indif- 
ferent to all present improvement. A few (about one in 
ten) would struggle to make matters better; they would 
take hopeful views of affairs and perform active work on 
things around them. 

For a day or two after our arrival at Camp Groce we 
lay by, idle and weary. As I thus looked on, and saw 
the listless despondency of the " old prisoners," I dis- 
covered quickly that those were happiest who were busi- 
est. Experience since has confirmed me in the value 



9Q PEISON CA]MPS. 

I earl}^ set on occupation. Those labors which the rebels 
have imposed on our men — the chopping of wood — the 
building of houses — the cooking of rations — have been, 
I think, the prisoner's greatest blessings. Our active 
northern minds chafe at enforced idleness, and the freshly 
caught Yankee, or Hoosier, after the work of cabin 
building is done, and the rough tables and stools are 
made, becomes dejected and then sick ; and yet while he 
was doing the work at which he growled, both soul and 
body bore up easily. It is no wonder then that I said 
to my lieutenant, " This will never do for us, Sherman, 
we must be busy." 

"We turned over a new leaf, therefore, for the following 
day. The Captain of the " Morning Light " j oined us and 
pledged himself to provide and devise quantities of work. 
With the first gleam of light one of us rose, and from a. 
little private hoard abstracted a small handful of coffee. 
These sailor prisoners, I early found, had no idea of going 
w^ithout while the Confederacy could supply them for 
either love or money (they did not care much which) ; 
and they inspired the rest with a little of their own easy 
impudence. 

Accordingly on the door-post hung one of the last 
coffee-mills that the shops of Houston had held, and in 
the galley (as they called the kitchen) stood a stove — 
the only one, probably, in any Texan camp. The first 
riser then kindled a fire in the stove, if it was not already 
there, and ground and made the coflee. Then bearing 
it to the sleepers' bunks, he quickly roused them with 



CAMP GKOCE. 97 

the cheerful salutation of " Here's your coffee — your 
fine hot coffee !" When a tin mug of coffee is the only 
luxury of the day it rises in importance and becomes 
great. "\Ve sipped it slow.ly and discussed it gravely. 
One thought that if it were strained a fourth time it 
would be stronger — the maker, on the contrary, thought 
that straining it again would take the strength out ; 
a second insisted that it ought to boil — but the maker 
maintained that boiling dispelled the aroma and sent it 
flying through the air. The coffee ended before the 
argnment ; and then after rinsing out our mugs and re- 
storing them to their private pegs, we took down our 
towels and started for the " branch." We descended 
the hill by a little path that was nearly hidden in tall 
'weeds and led to some thick bushes and trees that grew 
along the " branch." The chain of sentinels around the 
camp consisted of broad-hatted Texans, sitting at irregu- 
lar intervals on stumps and logs, and generally engaged 
in balancing their rifles on their knees. One of these, 
Captain Dillingham hailed in a patronizing way, in re- 
turn for which attention the sentry halted us. 

"I reckon," he said, "you can't go no further jist yit 
av/hile." 

"Halloo," said the Captain, "what's the matter 
noAv ?" 

" Well, there be three down there now, and the orders 
is not to let no more down to once." 

" Orders ?" said the Captain, indignantly : " who cares 
for orders ! What difference does it make to Jeff Davis 



98 PEISON CAMPS. 

whether there are three prisoners or six washing them- 
selves ?" 

" Well, I reckon it don't make an awful sight of differ- 
ence," the sentry admitted. 

S " Of course it doesn't," said the Captain, following 
up the concession. " The idea of making us wait Tiere 
because there's somebody down tfiere .^" 

"Well, I reckon you might as well- go on," yielded 
the sentry : " I reckon you won't run off this morning ;" 
and on we went. 

The " branch " was a little brook, sometimes running 
over sand-bars, sometimes filtering through them, and 
occasionally settling into pools, which were our bathing 
places. It was a happy relief to be out of sight of the 
barracks and alone. We clung to this under all sorts 
of difficulties and restrictions — sometimes going out with 
a patrol' — sometimes squeezing through on parole, and 
holding fast to it, until we left Camp Groce in the cold 
weather of December. 

The bath being taken, we walked leisurely back, won- 
dering that so few sought this relief from the misery of 
prison. At the barracks our sailor cook had prepared 
the breakfast, which was set out on the long table. He 
blew his boatswain's whistle, and all members of the 
mess hurried at the call. I had felt poor when I arrived 
at Camp Groce. I had expected to broil beef on sticks, 
and bake dodger in a dodger pot, and live on my ration 
as the Texans did. I was amazed at the extravagance 
I beheld, and when Captain Dillingham, with a sailor's 



CAMP GEOCE. 99 

heartiness, invited mc to join tlie navy mess, I hinted to 
him that probably I should become insolvent in a fort- 
night, if I did. The Captain langhed at the idea. He 
said there was plenty of money in Texas — he had never 
seen a coimtry that had so much money — and it was the 
easiest thing to get it — anybody would lend you all you 
wanted — the only fault he had to find was, that after 
he got it he couldn't spend it. 'Now, making reasonable 
allowances for nautical exaggeration, this was true. 
Sometimes a secret Unionist — sometimes a Confederate 
officer fairly forced his money upon us. They took no ob- 
ligation, save the implied one of our honor ; and the 
manner of payment, and the specie value of their Con- 
federate funds, they left entirely to ourselves. To spend 
this money was a harder task. To change this easily 
gotten spoilt paper into something of real intrinsic worth 
was to acquire wealth. 

When breakfast was finished, I took up a little French 
volume of ghost stories (which I read over five times 
carefully in the course of the next five months), and 
spent on it and some military works the next four hours. 
" Prisoners have nothing to do but to eat;" so at the end 
of four hours we had our breakfast over again. When 
'' dinner," as it was called, was finished, the Captain 
stoutly asserted that a load of wood must be got, and 
somebody must volunteer to get it. The Captain volun- 
teered, so did Lieutenant Sherman and myself, so did 
another ofiicer cheerfully, and two more tardily ; but 
the mass of closely confined prisoners were too weak and 



100 ■ PRISON CAMPS. 

too dejected, and they shrunk back from tlie efiort that 
this work would ccst them, preferring to stay idle 
and listless in their horrid prison. Those of ns who 
volunteered, seized a couple of dull old axes, and pro- 
ceeded to head-quarters. 

" We are going out for wood to cook with," said the 
Captain to the lieutenant tliatwe found there, " and we 
must have an arbor to keep the sun off those sick fellows, 
or they'll all die, and you'll have nobody to exchange. 
AYake uj) one or two of your men, and send them out 
with us." 

The lieutenant reckoned he could not, he hadn't ~ a 
man to spare, all were on guard who hadn't gone off to 
a race. The Captain pointed to the axes and said, " we 
were all ready to go." This struck the lieutenant as a 
powerful reason, and he reckoned he would let a nigger 
hitch up the mules, and then let us go without any guard, 
but we must not go across the " branch." The Captain 
replied that we w^ould not go a great way across the 
" branch ;" but he was fond of liberty, he said, and 
would not be circumscribed by '' branches." The lieu- 
tenant insisted on the " branch," there had been orders 
given to that effect, he reckoned. The Captain did not 
care anything about orders — what difference could it 
make to Jeff. Davis, he asked, whether we cut wood on 
this side of the " branch " or the other. The lieutenant 
could not answer this question, so he said, coaxinglj, 
" Well, you won't go a great ways on the other side, will 
you?" 



CAMP GROCE. 101 

Tliis little diifcrence being tlms comjoromised, we 
mounted an old rickety '' two-mule wagon," and drove 
down the ^' wood road," till a sentrj, sitting on a stump, 
reckoned we liad better stojD. Stop ! what should 
we stop for ? He reckoned he'd orders to let nobody 
out. Orders! Why, we had just been up to head- 
quarters, and got orders to go out, and also the wagon ; 
what more could he want. Then why had not the lieu- 
tenant sent down a man to tell hira ; it was no way to 
do business. The Captain said the wagon was pass 
enough as long as the mules would travel, and that we 
were going out for wood, which he thought altered the 
case ; if he, the sentry, doubted it, there were the axes. 
The sentry looked at the axes, and could not doubt the 
evidence of his eyes, so he let us out. 

The sun went down, and then began a long evening. 
There was nothing to do but to sit in the dark and talk of 
nothing. Then there was a detail made of two for the 
sick watch, and finding that I was "on," I went to bed. 
In the morning there had been several late sleepers who 
wondered why people got up early and ran a coffee-mill. 
As a matter of course these individuals now wondered 
why people went to bed early and wanted to sleep. The 
topics, too, which they chose were exactly the topics 
that always keep you awake ; and if by chance you for- 
got them long enough to fall asleep, then there would 
be a furious argument on some important matter; and 
if that did not waken you, then some other man (who, 
like yourself, turned in at taps,) would lose patience and 
roar out, " taps," " lights out," " guard-house," etc., etc. 



102 PRISON CAMPS. 

In small assemblages men may wake up and fall 
asleep when they please, but in camps and barracks, 
where many men of different habits are brought together, 
there must be some uniform rule for all. The Confeder- 
ates never enforced military usage upon us, much to the 
regret of all who were accustomed to it, and a few very 
early and very late individuals, some of whom sat up 
till after taps, and others of whom turned out before re- 
veille, were an endless annoyance to each other and to 
all. I think no oflScer of experience ever ran this gaunt- 
let without inwardly resolving that, if ever he got back 
to his own command, stillness and darkness should rule 
between taps and reveille ; that with daylight every 
blanket should go out, and every tent be put in order ; 
that every shaggy head should be clipped, and all the 
little regulations which weak-minded recruits think to 
be " military tyranny," should be most rigorously en- 
forced. 

But as I tossed around and made these resolves, the 
little sailor who was acting as hospital steward came in 
with both hands full of prescriptions. We had two ex- 
cellent and faithful surgeons at Camp Groce, Dr. Sherfy 
of the " Morning Light," and Dr. Roberts of the Con- 
federate service. They kept their little ofhce outside of 
the lines, came round on their second visit in the after- 
noon, and during the evening made up their prescrip- 
tions. This evening the first watch took the prescrip- 
tions from the hospital steward, and received the direc- 
tions. It was Lieut. Hays, of the ITSth E". Y., a happy, 
generous, warm-hearted Irishman, youthful and with 



CAMP GROCE. 103 

the humor and drollery of his race. He was always 
making fun when others were dull, and making peace 
w^hen they were angry. Soon I heard him going round 
among the sick. " I will listen," I thought, " and find 
out what I have to do when my watch comes." 

"Here's your medicine now, Mr. Black," I heard him 
say, " wake up and take it." 

" What is it ?" asked the sick man. 

" Oh ! it's blue pills to touch your liver ; come, take 
it, and don't be asking questions." 

" How many of them are there ?" inquired the pa- 
tient after swallowing several. 

" There are just seven of them, but what's that to 
you ? it won't do you any good to know it." 

" Why, the doctor said he would send me six. Per- 
haps you are not giving me mine." 

" Just you take what's sent to you. If you don't take 
the whole seven, they won't touch your liver a bit ; six 
would be of no use at all." 

The man with the untouched liver swallowed the pills, 
and soon I heard the first watch rousing another sick 
man with the same formula of " Here's your medicine 
now, wake up and take it — it's blue pills to touch your 
liver." 

" How many of them are there ?" asked this patient. 

"There are just six of them — what's the use of your 
knowing ?" 

" Why, the doctor said he would send me seven — ^per- 
haps these are not mine." 



104 PRISON CAMPS. 



'' 'No raattcr, six are just as good as seven, and seven 
are j List as good as fifty. All you need do is to take what 
I give yon, and it will toucli your liver all the same." 

Much enlightened by this mode of distributing doses, 
and re-assnring patients, I went to sleep, and slept till 
one A.M., when the first watch called me, and I took my 
turn. It was rather dreary, sitting in the dark and cold, 
occasionally giving a man his medicine or a drink, and 
wisliing for daylight. There was one poor fellow, also 
a lieutenant of the 175th, fast going in consumption. 
His constant cough, his restless sleep, his attenuated 
form, bright eye and hectic cheek, all told of the cou> 
ing end. Yet with him there was nothing to be done 
but wait and watch. 

!N^ow this, of itself, was not such a bad sort of day ; 
but there was a month of such days ; and then another ' 
montli, and then a third, and then many more. "What 
wonder that the strongest resolutions failed ! 

Then death came in among our little company, and ^ 
came again and again. Then sickness increased under 
the August sun. The long moss that hung down from 
the trees and waved so gracefully on the breeze, had be- 
tokened it long before it came, and the uncleaned camp 
and listless life made the prediction sure. It went on 
until all but one had felt it in some shaj^e or other, and 
there were not enough well to w^atch the sick. It never 
left us, and down to our last day at Camp Groce the 
chief part of our company were frail and feeble and 
dispirited. 



CAMP GKOCE. 105 

ISTear to the barracks stood a little shanty of rough 
boards, divided by a plank partition into two rooms. 
One of these had been assigned to Mr. Stratford and 
his wife, and the other after several w^eeks came into the 
possession of Col. Burrell of the 42d Mass., Dr. Sherfy, 
Capt. Dillingham and myself. After living amid the 
sickness, the discord, and the misery of the barracks, this 
room measuring ten feet by twelve, promised to four of 
us a quiet and retirement that amounted almost to hap- 
piness. We went to work upon our little house with all 
the zeal of school-boys, and positively look back upon it 
with affection. It boasted doors, but neither windows 
nor chimney. Its w^alls were without lath and plaster j 
and tlirongh innumerable chinks let in the wind. The 
Captain and I also messed with Mr. and Mrs. Stratford ; 
so we had a double interest in the shanty, and when we 
had built ourselves bunks and swung a shelf or two, 
we went to work on our other half. 

" "What shall I do for a blanket line ? " w^as one of the 
first questions I had asked after our arrival. 

" Let me lend you mine," said an officer of the " Morn- 
ing Light," " we sailors always hang on to our ropes." 

" I wdll take it this morning, with thanks ; but I want 
something of my own. If there is anything I despise, it's 
a soldier's blanket in his tent after reveille." 

'* We are not so particular here, I'm sorry to say," 
said my friend ; " and unless you can find a line among 
the sailors, you won't find one in Texas." 

" I am going out in the woods this afternoon, with 



106 PEISON CAMPS. 

Mr. Fowler," I answered, "and will try to get one 
there." 

'Now, Mr. Fowler, the acting Master of the " Morning 
Light," was an old sailor, who had hardly been on shore 
for forty years. But in his early boyhood he had 
watched the Indians at their work, and caught from 
them, as boys do,- some of their simple medicines and 
arts. For years and years these facts had slept undis- 
turbed in his mind. If any one had asked him, he would 
have said they were forgotten ; but now, under the pres- 
sure of our wants, they, one by one, came back. With 
this long-time worthless knowledge, Mr. Fowler was 
now busily and usefully employed. He made Indian 
baskets of all shapes and sizes, and even bent his ash- 
slips into fantastic dishes. He made Indian brooms and 
fly-brushes, and w^ooden bowls, and wove grape-vine and 
black-jack into high-backed, deep-seated, sick-room 
chairs. "Where others saw only weeds or fire-wood, he 
found remedies for half our diseases; and when the 
surgeon's physic gave out, Mr. Fowler's laboratory was 
rich in simples. 

We went out on parole that afternoon, Mr. Fowler 
carrying his basket, and I, an axe. He called attention 
to the fact that these pecan nuts would be ripe by-and- 
by, and that those persimmons would be worth coming 
after when the frost should have sugared them, and he 
filled his basket as he walked and talked. Before long, 
we saw some clean black-jack vines hanging from the 
top-most branches of a tree. We tugged and strained 



CAMP GROCE. 107 

a few minutes, and tlien a splendid vine came down, 
not thicker than a lady's finger at the root, yet forty feet 
in length. It was flexible as a rope, and as I coiled it 
np, I said to Mr. Fowler, *'I have got my blanket 
line." 

Having cut an ash stick for a broom, and a pecan log 
for an axe handle, we went back to camp, where, soon 
after, Mr. Fowler was busily engaged in pounding his 
ash stick to loosen the splints, and I, at work on the 
severest manual effort of my life, viz., whittling with a 
soft-bladed penknife, out of flinty pecan wood, an ortho- 
dox American axe-helve. 

Some weeks passed, and then one of those events oc- 
curred which are doubly mortifying if you are then on 
the wrong side of the enemy's lines. I was lying ill in 
my bunk when an excited individnal rushed into the 
barracks and made me better by the announcement, that 
the train had brought up great news from Houston. 
Blunt was coming down through the Indian Territory with 
his rough borderers, and all the troops in Texas were to 
be hurried northward to repel the invasion. For several 
days and nights trains ran by our camp loaded with sol- 
diers who howled horribly to our guards, who howled 
horribly back to them. The Houston TelegrapTi came 
filled with orders of General Magruder, directing the 
movement of his forces, and naming twenty-seven differ- 
ent battalions that were to hurry forward immediately. 
The General did not publish such orders ordinarily, and 
this one looked like haste, excitement and alarm. 



108 pkiso'n ca]vips. 

One night, about ten o'clock, an engine was heard 
hurrying up the road. As usual it stopped at the water- 
tank near our camp. In ten nnnutes important news 
had leaped from the engine to liead-quarters ; from 
head-quarters to the guard-house, and from the guard- 
house straight through the line of sentries into our bunks. 
Tlie news was this : twelve Yankee gun-boats, twenty- 
four large transports, and six thousand men lay off 
Sabine. 

The next day the train confirmed the news. We 
learnt, too, that Union men, in Houston, were bold and 
defiant, and talked openly of a change of masters. Our 
guards were in a ferment. They talked with us freely, 
and confessed that there were not three hundred troops 
between Houston and Sabine. " Your folks will seize 
the railroad and march straight on to Houston," they 
said, " and then Galveston will have to go, and like as 
not you'll be guarding us within a week." "What 
splendid strategy," said everybody. " Blunt has drawn 
all the forces in the State up to Bonham — there is 
nothing to prevent our coming in below ; Magruder is 
completely out-generalled. We must forgive the two 
months of idleness since Yicksburg and Port Hudson 
fell." 

Another day came, and the excitement increased ; 
another, and affairs seemed in suspense ; a third, and 
there was a rumor that two gun-boats had been sunk, 
their crews, captured, and that the " Great Expedition " 
was " skedaddling " (such was the ignominious term ap- 



CAMP GKOCE. 109 

plied) back to l^ew Orleans. There came yet another 
day, when we sat waiting for the train. 

"The cars are late," said one. "It is past three 
o'clock, and they should have been here at two." 

" That's a good sign," said another ; " it shows they 
have something to keep them. When they come you 
will see Magruder is sending off his ordnance stores." 

" Then you don't feel any fear about that rumor?" 

" That rumor, oh fio ! It is the best sign of all. They 
never fail to get up such rumors when they are being 
beaten. Don't you remember how, just before Yicks- 
burg surrendered, we used to hear that Breckenridge 
had taken Baton Rouge, and Taylor was besieging I^ew 
Orleans, and Lee had burnt Philadelphia ?" 

" Oh no," said everybody, stoutly, " there is no dan- 
ger. And how can there be ? We know that there is 
nothing down there but a little mud fort, with fifty men 
in it, and six forty-two pounders. Our Inmdred-pound 
Parrots will knock it to pieces, and a couple of com- 
panics can carry it by assault. Oh no, all I am afraid 
of is, that we shall be run off, nobody knows where." 

The whistle sounded and we waited for the news. 
The track ran through a deep cutting, which at first hid 
the body of the cars from our sight, but a man stood on 
the roof of the foremost baggage car and waved his hat. 
Presently a howl was given by those of our guard who 
were waiting at the station. 

" What can that mean ?" said everybody. " Yery 
strange ! surely there can be no bad news for us." 



110 PRISON CAMPS. 

The next moment, some one exclaimed, " Good hea- 
vens, what a sight ! Look there !" I looked ; the train 
was covered with the blue-jackets of our navy. 

The officers of the " Clifton" and " Sachem" did not ac- 
company their men. We heard that they were guilty of 
spiking their cannon, flooding their magazines, secreting 
their money, and other like offences, for which they 
were kept at Houston ; later, however, they unexpect- 
edly came up. A new Captain, who then commanded 
Camp Groce, ushered them in, and we welcomed them. 
The youngest of us then had been prisoners more than 
three months, and felt ourselves to be " old-prisoners." 
The Captain of the " Clifton " supped with us, and as he 
surveyed our little shanty, replete with black-jack lines,' 
hat-racks of curiously twisted branches, knives, and 
spoons, and salt-cellars, neatly carved from wood, and 
pipes fashioned out of incomparable corn-cob, he said 
that these little luxuries made him feel sorry for us, for 
they showed him what straits we had been reduced to. 
I felt sorry for him as he said it, for the speech reminded 
me of the lessons reserved for him to learn. Later than 
usual we retired, excited with this unusual event. The 
barracks had just grown quiet, when the Captain in 
command suddenly re-appeared, his guard at his back. 
" The gentlemen who arrived to-day," he said, in an 
agitated voice, " will please to rise immediately." The 
new-comers rose, groped round for clothes and baggage 
in the dark ; and as they "dressed, asked what all this 
meant. The Captain vouchsafed no reply, but in a still 



CAMP GROCE. Ill 

more agitated voice, begged them to be as quick as pos- 
sible. Wlietlier tliey were going to be searched, or 
executed, or sent back to Houston, nobody could deter- 
mine. They were marched off, and we, now wide awake, 
discussed the matter for some hours. The next morning 
disclosed our friends haplessly shivering around a small 
building, some three hundred yards distant. It aj)peared 
that strict orders had been sent up with the prisoners, 
directing that they should be confined separately, and 
hold no communication with us. Tlie now unhappy 
Captain had not thought it worth while to read his 
orders until bed time. Then he stumbled on the fiat of 
the stern Provost Marshal General, whose chief delight 
was to court-martial Confederate captains. Deeply dis- 
mayed, he had rushed to the guard-house for his guard, 
to the barracks for his prisoners, and executed the pain- 
ful work of separation. 

The Provost Marshal General had not enclosed sub- 
sistence in his order. In the absence of dodger-pots, the 
" old prisoners " had to take care of these new ones. We 
were not allowed to write or talk, to send messages or 
to receive them. The baskets, as they went and came, 
were searched, the dodgers broken open, and everything 
was done in a very military and terrible way. In a few 
days we received a present of pea-nuts from our friends. 
We were not fond of pea-nuts, and did not appreciate 
the gift. The basket travelled over as usual with their 
dinner, but carried no acknowledgment of the pea-nuts. 
In the afternoon Lieutenant Dane, of the signal corps, 



112 PRISON CAMPS. 

was seen approacliing our lines witli a prize — a prize 
that had neither predecessor nor successor — a leg of 
mutton. The lieutenant delivered the mutton across 
the line to one of us, and the notability of the event 
warranted him in saying before the guard : 

" This is a present from Major Barnes. Did you get 
the pea-nuts we sent you this morning ?" 

" Yes, yes," responded Captain Dillingham, on behalf 
of our mess ; '^ yes, they're very nice. We are much 
obliged to you." 

" Eat them," said the lieutenant, " eat them. They 
won't hurt you — eat them all." 

The Captain carried the leg of mutton in, and hur- 
riedly took down the pea-nuts. We looked sharply at 
them, but saw nothing unusual. Why eat them all f 
" If they want us to do so, it must be done !" We pro- 
ceeded to break the shells. Presently there was a shell — 
a sound and healthy shell — within which had grown a 
long, -narrow slip of paper, rolled up tightly. It con- 
tained a single message, viz., that the covered handle of 
Mr. Fowler's basket was in fact a mail -bag. From that 
time on, the watchful patrols would lift out the plates, 
and inspect the beef, and scrutinize the dodger, and then 
carry the mail-bag backward and forward for us. 

With the increased number of prisoners, there had 
been a change in the command of the camp. The com- 
pany of volunteers were relieved by a battalion of 
militia. To our surprise, the militia very far surpassed 
the volunteers, and did their business in a very soldierly 



CAMP GEOCE. 113 

way. Tlie .battalion was commanded bj Lieutenant- 
Colonel John Sayles, a lawyer of considerable distinction 
in Texas. The Lieutenant-Colonel was a man of few 
words, very quiet, very kind, and rarely gave an order 
that did not effect an improvement. 

On the Sunday after he assumed command, Colonel 
Sayles informed me in his quiet way, that there would 
be Divine service in the grove, and invited me and all 
the prisoners to accompany him. There had been a 
reverend gentleman preaching at Camp Groce the Sun- 
day before I arrived, who had been seeking a chaplaincy, 
and had assumed wliat he supposed was a popular train 
of argument ; as for instance, warning his beloved 
brethren that the chief horror of eternal punishment 
would be meeting the President of the United States 
there. I do not care to hear irreverent things said in the 
pulpit, nor do I think it the part of an officer to listen 
voluntarily to denunciations of his government, yet I 
felt assured that Colonel Sayles would not invite me to 
anything of that kind, and I thought I could- best ac- 
knowledge his civility by accepting. 

"When the clergyman who officiated first caught sight 
of the prisoners, forming one-half of his audience, he 
evinced a little embarrassment. He alluded to this as 
he began his sermon, and spoke happily of the breadth 
of the Christian faith, extending to all conditions of men, 
and enabling enemies to stand together and worship at 
one altar. His prayer was chiefly an affecting and 
beautiful petition on our behalf. He spoke of the tender 



114: PRISON CAMPS. 

ties that were severed, and besought consolation for our 
distant dear ones, who must be now in anxiety watching 
our fate. He prayed, too, that " we their captors and | 
keepers, may have grace to treat them as becomes 
Christian soldiers, resisting the evil passions of our 
hearts and the evil counsels of wicked and cruel men." 

After the services were concluded, we were introduced 
to the clergyman, Mr. McGown, of Hunts ville. He 
visited us in our quarters, ministered to our sick, and 
was always one of our most welcome visitors. He had 
been with Houston in the war of Texan independence, 
and was one of the heroes of San Jacinto. His acquaint- 
ance with the General had been intimate, and he enter- 
tained us with many interesting anecdotes of him and 
tales of the former war. 

These anecdotes of General Houston then possessed 
for us unusual interest. "When some of the older prison- 
ers had been sent to the State Prison at Huntsville, they 
were halted a few minutes on the outskirts of the 
town. As they waited there, a tall, imposing old man 
approached and asked, who was the United States officer 
highest in rank. Captain Dillingham was pointed out 
to him as the senior naval officer. Walking up to him 
and extending his hand, he said, in a deep, emphatic 
voice, " My name is Houston, sir. I have come to say 
to you, gentlemen, that I do not approve of such treat- 
ment for prisoners of war. "No prisoner of war shall ever 
be put in a jail with my consent." 

The death of General Houston occurred just before I 



CAMP GEOCE. 115 

reached Texas. Many stories were told of his great per- 
sonal power, and strange incidents of his wondrously 
romantic life. The forebodings of his celebrated letter 
were all realized before he died, for his oldest son was 
in the ranks — his warmest friends and supporters were 
scattered and slain, and ruin and desolation brooded over 
the State which he had established and so long directed 
and controlled. He was guarded in the expression of 
his political sentiments, but occasionally addressed the 
troops, speaking from the Texan point of view. He 
never took the oath of allegiance to the Confederate 
Government. A short time before his death travellers 
were required to have a Provost Marshal's pass, and to 
procure a pass they must take the oath. The General 
had neither taken the oath nor procured a pass. He 
set out, however, on a journey and proceeded till one of 
the provost guard halted him and demanded his pass. 

" My pass through Texas," said the old man, in his 
sternest tone, " is San Jacinto." 

The Texan soldier looked at him for a moment. " I 
reckon," he said, '^ that pass will go as far in Texas as 
any a Provost Marshal ever wrote. Pass an old San 
Jacinto." 

Colonel Sayles was soon succeeded by Major James S. 
Barnes of the same battalion. The Major was a Georgian 
by birth, an old Texan by residence, and a man of 
great general information, and so far as we were con- 
cerned, in every thought and word and deed a perfect 
Cliristian gentleman. He told stories with a graphic 



116 PRISON CAMPS. 

simplicity I have never heard excelled, and was so plea- 
santly reasonable and so enticingly good-natured that 
even our wayward sailors consented to be led by a lands- 
man, and allowed that he was as good a man as a rebel 
could be. One day as the Major passed through the 
barracks chatting wdth the well and cheering up the sick, 
he hinted at the uncertainty of exchange and at coming 
" northers," and advised us to prepare for the worst by 
building ourselves chimneys and fire-places. He prom- 
ised to provide an old negro chimney-builder to engineer 
the work and teams to haul the material. The dwellers 
in the shanty quickly availed themselves of the offer. 
But nothing could induce those in the barracks to go 
and do likewise. So weak and dispirited were all that 
tlie difiiculties appeared insurmountable. "When the 
frost came and found them still prisoners, they piled 
sand on the floor, and making fire upon it sat there and 
shivered, while the smoke fioated over them and found 
its way out through the holes in the roof. 

We, who were wise betimes, cut our logs in the woods, 
dug up our clay on the neighboring hill-side, and waited 
the arrival of " Uncle George." This uncle came in 
time, and led the work. A hole was cut in Mr. Strat-- 
ford's room — the logs were notched and crossed, the 
chimney splints were split and laid up, and the whole 
was properly cemented together, and daubed over with 
rich clay mortar. 

Hardly was the chimney complete, when one of the 
guard announced that he reckoned there'd be a norther; 



CAMP GROOE. 117 

the beeves, he said, were making for the timber. In 
Texas it is an establi bed fact that nobody can tell any- 
thing about the weather, so we gave little heed to the 
prediction. Early in the afternoon, however, some one 
said that the norther was in sight. The day was warm ; 
the snn was bright ; birds were singing, and the leaves 
still were green. There was nothing to indicate a change 
save a black cloud rapidly rising in the north. Our 
men were sitting round in their shirt-sleeves, whittling 
and workiDg as usual, and every thing continued plea- 
sant. The black cloud, however, bore swiftly down upon 
us. As it drew near, we saw an immense flock of turkey- 
buzzards driven before it, whirling in the air and scream- 
ing wildly. A moment later the breeze struck us. It 
felt not unlike the gust that precedes a thunder-shower, 
but as I watched the cloud I found that I had suddenly 
grown cold. I had heard fearful stories of these northers, 
and read of a hardy Yermonter, who, scorning a cold 
that merely skimmed the ponds with ice, had ventured 
out in one ; and how his blood congealed, and he was 
carried back by his horse insensible. I saw that all 
the men had gone in, and that the sentries had wrap- 
ped themselves in their blankets. Within the shanty I 
found our little fire-place bright and its owners sitting 
in a close circle around it. But the cold seemed to beat 
directly through the walls, and the wind blew a steady 
blast. We passed all the long evening closely crouched 
around the fire, warming first one side and then the 
other, talking of home and pitying the poor wretches in 



118 PRISON CAMPS. 

the barracks. "Wlien bed-time came we carried hot 
stones with us into our bunks and hurried to bed before 
we should be chilled. I wrapped myself in my double 
army blanket with which I had braved ice and snow, 
and then rolled myself in my buffalo. I thought it suf- 
ficient for an Arctic winter, but ere morning the horrible 
cold crept in and penetrated to the very bones. As I 
moved about to try and make my blood circulate, 
Colonel Burrill spoke and said that he was so cold that 
he feared he was dying. The Colonel had been quite 
ill, and this startled me ; so I rose, threw a coat or two 
upon him, and then drawing the blankets over his head, 
tucked them tightly in and left him to take the chances 
of suffocation or freezing. I went back to my own 
couch and shivered away till morning. The cold drove 
us all out early, and we met again around our fire-place. 
A sailor boy brought up a hot breakfast, for cooking over 
a hot stove that morning was a high privilege which no 
one threw away. He told us that one of his shipmates 
lay frozen in his bunk, and that they had just found him 
there dead. During the morning we suspended our 
blankets from the rafters so as to form a little tent im- 
mediately around the fire, and there in darkness we sat 
the live-long day. Another dismal evening followed 
and another bitter night. Then, after thirty-six hours of 
fury, the norther went down and Ave ventured to crawl 
out and resume our work. 



TEA. 119 



VII. 

TEA. 

Theke was some coffee in Camp Groce, when we 
arrived — not mucli — and a little was bought afterward 
for " morning coffee," with some tea for the sick, at fif- 
teen dollars per pound. It was poor stuff, and not worth 
the price. 

The messes that I found there used corn ; or, as they 
called it, corn coffee. This was made from the meal. 
Burnt in a frjing-pan upon the stove, by a sailor-cook, 
some particles in charcoal and some not singed at all, it 
formed a grayish compound, and made as horrible a 
beverage as any one could be supposed willing to drink. 
I thought at first that I would go back, for my own part, 
to an old habit of cold water ; and if we had possessed 
pure water I might have done so. But our well-water 
liad a sulphurous taste; and then, in this sonthern cli- 
mate, there is an insatiable appetite for nervine food. 
Thus those who never touched pepper, nor cared a fig for 
seasoning and spices at home (not because they disliked 
them, but because they thought it wisest not to eat what 
they did not want), have had a constant craving in the 
army for coffee, tea, and spices, and for the bad catsups, 



120 PRISON- CALIFS. 

and worse imitation sauces, that sutlers sell and soldiers 
buy. So I drank these slops, and, like the others, called 
them coffee. 

A little mess, indeed, as I have hinted, applied the 
Louisiana lesson we had learnt, and made their "morning 
cofiee." Turning out with the first glimmer of dawn, 
we ground and re-ground exactly twenty of the precious 
berries, watchful that not one should be lost, nor a speck 
of the priceless dust spilt. An old tin cylinder, with a 
piece of flannel bound tightly round the end, formed the 
strainer, and a large-sized tin mug our coffee-pot ; and by 
keeping a week's grounds, at least, in the strainer, it was 
wonderful what strength this ingenious apparatus did 
extract. 

But the enterprising Yankee mind, never long con- 
tented with any thing, quarrelled with the corn-meal 
coffee and proposed a change. A hardy sailor, of 'New 
England origin, objected to the meal, and insisted that 
it would be better to make the coffee directly out of 
corn — we should, he said, get all the flavor then. There 
was a furious debate over this, of course, for the enter- 
prising Yankee mind much prefers a theory to a fact. 
It was argued on the one side, that the flavor was just 
what you did not want ; that corn was corn, and it made 
no difference if it was also meal ; and that it was much 
wiser to use the meal and thereby make the enemy 
grind our coffee, than to burn the corn and grind it our- 
selves. These arguments were met by others equally 
strong, and the debate continued till some stupid person 






TEA. 121 

of Dutch descent, suggested that the proof of the pud- 
ding is in the eating, and that if any one wanted to try 
corn for coffee, lie might. 

We traded some of our meal ration for corn ; the corn 
was burnt and ground and tried, and found far pre- 
ferable to meal and all other substitutes. Its opponents 
drank it, and our little coffee-mill creaked and rattled 
at all hours under the load which the discovery threw 
upon it. 

A furtlier improvement was effected, for it was dis- 
covered one day, that the outside of the kernel would be 
well parched, while the inside would have a yellow, un- 
done appearance. The fact is, it was impossible to roast 
it through, and this gave to the coffee a raw, mealy 
taste. The remedy was simple, and consisted merely in 
not grinding the corn, and thus using only the outside of 
the kernel. 

"We thought then that we had reached the perfection 
of corn, and the last of substitutes. 

There was, however, a tea made by the Texans from 
the leaves of a half bush, half tree, called yapon^ which 
was said to taste wonderfully like the real. They drank 
it three times a day, at Captain Buster's head-quarters, 
and many of the sailors follow^ed the fashion. Yet it had 
a bad name. It was said, that it caused certain unplea- 
sant medical effects, and one young gentleman, who had 
once taken a mug fulj, averred that he shortly thereafter 
felt a burning sensation in that part of liis body where 
he supposed (erroneously) was his stomach. 

6 



122 PEISON CAMPS. 

I never could find the men whom it was said to have 
made sick, and I had little belief in the rnmor. Yet, as I 
do not like tea except when ill, there was little induce- 
ment to experiment with this unknown, untried plant. 
Still I meant to test it, some time or other, as a matter 
of scientific curiosity, and if it were like the Chinese 
plant, to cany a handful home for the edification of tea 
drinkers there. 

This "some time or other" did not come, probably be- 
cause the material was always close at hand. The 
yapon grew thickly along the brook and up to the bor- 
ders of the camp. It was generally from ten to twenty 
feet high, and as thick as a man's arm ; it had fur- 
nished us with nearly all the poles for a rustic arbor, 
that ran aloDg the sunny side of the barracks, and helped 
to shade and cool the sick-bunks. Its branches-, too, 
had been used to fill up in roofing the arbor, and there 
were leaves enough there to furnish an army with 
bohea. 

Thus time glided away under the influence of corn 
coffee, till one day it was said, that the commanding 
officer had proclaimed corn coffee unhealthy, nay, dan- 
gerous. There were then numerous medical symptoms, 
all pointing forward to intermittent fever and backward 
to corn coffee. When a dozen men compare notes, and 
find that they are all afflicted in the same way, and 
never in their lives have been so before, it alarms 
them. 

The surgeon was informed of this, and he thought 



TEA. 123 

there must be sometliing in it, tlie intermittent cases liad 
increased so nnaccountablj. As we tliiis deliberated, 
Colonel Sayles came up and we consulted him. The 
Colonel gave his facts and recommended sweet potatoes 
as a substitute for corn and coffee. 

" Let us look at the analysis," said the surgeon, walk- 
ing into his office and taking down a big book. 

" ' Corn or maize, sometimes called Indian corn. This 
grain is cultivated throughout the United States.' " 
" Yes, we know that." " ' Its analysis shows starch, 
sugar, sul/phate of lime.'^ That must be the agent (if any) 
■svhich is doing us all the damage. I really think you had 
better follow the Colonel's advice and take up the sweet 
potatoes." 

" Let us see what the potato has in it. Doctor, who 
knows but that there's some other atom to be roasted 
into poison there ?" 

"Eatata, yes, ' batata, or common potato,' ' seed poi- 
sonous,' and so forth. Analysis sugar, and so forth. It 
has the sulphate again and more of it than there is in 
corn. That will never do, to say nothing of costing 
ten dollars a bushel." 

October was drawing toward its end when there came 
a " wet norther," and with it a sharp frost, ice thick as 
a pane, of glass — much suffering — some agues and count- 
less colds. 

The " norther " found me ill with a periodical return of 
my Louisiana malarial, and brought me a cold of the 
severest kind. It blew tlirough the cracks and crannies 



124 PEISOK CAMPS. 

of the barracks, tlirongli my blankets and tliroiigli me. 
I felt as though my blood had ceased to circulate and I 
should never be warm again. 

" Try some of Mr. Fowler's sumach," suggested some 
one ; " it cured my cold." 

" I have tried everything," I said, " and find the only 
thing is prevention — nothing cures these colds with me 
when they have come." 

" And I never got any help from medicine," said my 
friend. ''But this stuff of Fowler's cured mine in a 
night. I never knew any thing like it." 

I went to Mr. Fowler and got the sumach berries. A 
cluster or two thrown in a quart mug of boiling water 
made the remedy. It was fearfully acid, and it took 
fearful quantities of sugar to make it palatable, but it 
then had quite a pleasant taste and worked (let me say 
for the benefit of the victims of violent catarrli) a miracu- 
lous cure. 

I had not paid much attention to the Acting Master's 
simples, having no great faith in medicine aad less in 
herbs — but this with the dread of another bilious attack 
aroused me so far that I walked round the barracks and 
asked after the livers of all the patients who had been 
treated with his wild peach bark. These livers were 
found to be in a highly improved condition, and tliink- 
iuQ, it fair that mine should have a share in all the medi- 
cal advantages afforded by a residence in Texas, I de- 
termined to treat it also to wild peach bark. 

The " norther" broke on the second day, and in the 



TEA. 125 

after noon tlie weather was much like the last part of 
one of our cold nor'-easters. The rain had ceased, but the 
clouds floated gloomily overhead and the wind blew 
coldly from the north. 

'' Come, Stratford," I said, " I am a convert to the 
Fowler tre^itment, and shall feel the better for a little 
exercise. Let us go out and get some bark." 

'' Oh, it's too cold and the ground will be muddy ; you 
had better wait till to-morrow ; it will be fine weather 
then." • 

"No, no, to-morrow you will be at work on the chim- 
ney, and this is a broken day ; let us go now." 

" Well, if you will get the patrol we will go." 

I walked down to the guard-house and represented to 
the sergeant of the guard the importance of having wild 
peach bark and the necessity of going out to get it. 

Tlie sergeant first raised the usual difficulties and then 
gave the usual order. A stout gentleman, who helped 
himself to a double-barrelled gun, informed us that he 
would go as Pat Eoll. He sketched briefly his life 
for us by stating that he was born in South Carolina, 
raised in Alabama, druv stage in Florida, and sogered 
it in Texas. He also expressed the opinion that Texas 
was an easy country to live in, " because the hogs run in 
the woods and the horses run out," and he intimated 
that he looked with great contempt on those parts of the 
world where the hogs eat corn, and the horses live in the 
stable. 

As I was still weak I handed my axe over to one of 



126 PRISON CAMrS. 

tlie others. We crossed the brook and near by fonnd a 
wild peacli. It was soon cut down, and we proceeded 
as nsual to sliave oif tlie bark from the trunk of the tree, 
and then pull np such roots as would come. When this 
was done each of my comj)anions loaded himself with 
an nnpealed log, while I took the axe and basket of bark. 
Tlius laden, we started to return. 

" Since we are working for the Herb Department," 
said I, " let lis take np some yapon and try the tea. I 
wonder if I can cut off this branch with one hand ?" 

A well-leaved branch of the yapon hnng over the 
road, bright with red berries, and against it I raised the 
axe. A couple of blows brought it down. Mr. Strat- 
ford added it to his load, and with it we went back to 
our quarters. 

A day or two passed, during w^hich the weather mod- 
erated. It was Saturday afternoon, and I was sitting in 
the sun, still languid, while Mr. Stratford was trying to 
heat red-hot an old shovel he had found, in order that 
he might cut off its rivets and fit in it a new handle, 
when the thought of the yapon came into my head. 
I took up the branch and began to pluck off the leaves. 

" Are you going to try the yapon ?" said Lieutenant 
Sherman, who casually came in. 

" Yes, and I want you to go up to the galley and dry 
the leaves ?" 

" Oh, why don't you take them green ? That's the 
way the sailors do." 

" True ! but the sailors are not remarkable for skill in 



TEA. 127 

scientific cookery, and I think a decoction of any green 
plant must differ a good deal from that of a dry one." 

" Then why don't you take some of the leaves from 
the arbor ?" 

" They are all bleached and washed to pieces. A 
horse would not eat hay that had been hung up in the 
rain and dew as they have. Go into the doctor's office 
and get his Dispensatory, and we will ]3repare them as the 
Chinese do. The book must give the process for tea, for 
I was looking at ^ sweet potatoes ' the other day, and 
found accidentally that it is very full on the making of 
sugar." 

The lieutenant brought the book, turned to the article, 
and read : 

"'Tea. — ^The plant which furnishes tea. Thea Chi- 
nensis is an evergreen shrub, belonging to ' " 

" Never mind the botany, we do not mean to grow 
tea, but cure it. Go over to the manufacture." 

He skipped over a page or two and proceeded : 

" ' It is propagated from the seeds. In three years the 
plant yields leaves for collection, and in six attains the 
height of a man. When from seven to ten years old, it 
is cut down, in order that the numerous shoots which 
issue from the stumps may afford a large product of 
leaves. These are picked separately by the hand. Three 
harvests, according to Koempfer, are made during the 
year. As the youngest leaves are the best, the product 
of the first collection is most valuable, while that of the 
third, consisting of the oldest leaves, is comparatively 



128 PRISON CAMPS. 

little esteemed. After having been gathered, the leaves 
are dried by artificial heat in a shallow iron pan.' " 

" That's a shovel," said Mr. Stratford, who generally 
manufactured the most of our small-wit, and who had 
just come in to take his shovel from the fire. " That's a 
shovel — a shovel is a shallow iron pan." 

" ' From which,' " pursued Lieutenant Sherman, read- 
ing, " 'they are removed while still hot, and rolled with 
the fingers on the palm of the hands, to be brought into 
the form in which they are found in commerce.' " 
■ " All right," said Mr. Stratford. " You have picked 
the leaves separately by the hand. I'll dry them arti- 
ficially by heat in a shallow iron pan, and Sherman can 
roll them with the finger or in the palm of his hand, to 
bring them into the right shape." 

He drew his shovel from the fire as he spoke, and 
after knocking off" the loose ashes, threw^ a handful of the 
yapon leaves wpon it. 

" These leaves won't roll up," said Lieutenant Sher- 
man, after they had been drying a few minutes on the 
shovel. " They crack and unroll themselves." 

" Yes, but they are old leaves, see how thick they are, 
and the berries are red and ripe. Here by chance is a 
young one ; the book says, you know, that they value 
the young leaves most. What better shape could you 
have than that — just the roll of a tea-leaf." 

" And now," said Mr. Stratford, " that they are arti- 
ficially dried in a shallow iron j^an, Sherman, put the 
cofi'ee-pot on, and let's all take tea." 



TEA. 129 

The turn affairs had taken roused in me rather more 
than usual curiosity, and as my mug was filled, I exam- 
ined the tea with rather more than customary care. The 
aroma was that of poor tea, and the resemblance was 
quite striking, making me more curious as to the taste. 
I cooled it down as rapidly as possible and took a sip. 
There was a woody taste, but through this came the 
unmistakable flavor of the tea. '' Who knows but this 
is a discovery?" I thought, and so I said emphatically : 

" This is TEA." 

" It is amazingly like it, though not very good." 

" It is the tea-plant itself. Sherman, turn back to the 
article and read the botany." 

The lieutenant re-opened the book and again read. 

" ' The plant which furnishes tea, Thea Chinensis^ is 
an evergreen shrub.' " 

" This is an evergreen shrub. See how bright the 
leaves are, though we are near November." 

" ' Belonging to the class and order Monadelphia 
Polyandria^ of the sexual system, and to the natural 
order Ternstromiacem^ " 

" I think this is Poly — what do you call it ?" said Mr. 
Stratford, encouragingly ; " and I'm sure it belongs to 
the natural order." 

" ' It is usually from four to eight feet high, though 
capable, in a favorable situation, of attaining the height 
of thirty feet.' " 

" Texas is a favorable situation," said Lieutenant Sher- 
man, " I can find one that comes up to thirty feet." 

6^ 



130 PRISON CAMPS. 

" ^ It has numerous alternate brandies.' " 
'' So lias the japon, alternate and plenty of them." 
" ' Furnished with elliptical-oblong or lanceolate 
pointed leaves.' " 

" These are elliptical, oblong and pointed leaves." 
" 'Which are serrate, except at the base.' " 
" These are serrate ; and let me see, yes, ' except at 
the base.' I^ot a saw tooth there." 

" ' Smooth on both sides, green, shining, marked with 
one rib and many transverse veins.' " 

" ' Smooth on hoth sides, green, shining, mar'ked with 
one Tib and many transverse veins ' — the exact descrip- 
tion. Do look at them." 

" ' And supported alternately upon short foot-stalkst' " 
" ' Supported alternately upon short foot-stalks ' — so 
they are." 

" ' They are two or three inches long and from half an 
i-ncli to an inch in breadth.' " 

" These are little more than half the size. But then 
the book is describing the cultivated plant, and this is 
the wild one." 

" ' The flowers are either solitary or supported two or 
three together at the axils of the leaves.' " 
" "What a pity we have not seen the flower !" 
" The berries, though, will help us to place them. 
Here they are * solitary,' yes, and Hwo or three to- 
gether,' and at ' the axils of the leaves.' " 

■' ' The fruit is a three-celled, three-seeded capsule." 
^' This has four, but I think that is not material. The 



TEA. 131 

persimmons, for instance, have seven seeds here and only 
two or three in 'New Jersey." 

" That," said Mr. Stratford, still encouragingly, " is 
because Texas is such a seedy place. I've grown some- 
what seedy myself since I've been here." 

" ' It is stated that the odor of the tea-leaves them- 
selves is very slight.' " 

" The odor of these is very slight," remarked Mr. Strat- 
ford, " so slight, that I sometimes imagine I don't smell 
it at all." 

" ' And that it is customary to mix with them the 
leaves of certain aromatic plants, such as Olea Fra- 
grans.'^ " 

" When the war is over," said Mr. Stratford, in con- 
clusion, " we w^ill get some olea to mix with it, and then 
it will be all complete. And now let us hurrah for the 
great American tea. You can stay here and take care 
of the plant, and I will go home (so soon as I can) and 
get up a great Texan Tea Company. 



132 PEISOlf CAMPS. 



VIII. 

CAMP FOKD. 

A"CTUMN was drawing to a close, the leaves had fallen 
from the trees, the grass was no longer green, and 
prairie and timber seemed alike bare and cold. Still no 
exchange had come. We knew of the thirty-seven thou- 
sand prisoners taken at Yicksburg, and the six thousand 
taken at Port Hudson, and therefore we listened hope- 
fully to rumors of exchange, and coined a few of our 
own, and remained prisoners of war. 

Within the prison-camp, affairs had not grown brighter. 
There was increased sickness with despondency and (for 
so small a party) many deaths. Two Massachusetts 
officers had died early. Then the consumptive lieuten- 
ant's light had flickered, and with fitful changes grown 
more and more dim, until it softly expired. A week 
later, as some of us were awaiting impatiently the 
breakfast-whistle of our cook, an officer ran hurriedly 
past to the guard-line, and calling to the surgeon, 
said, '' Come quickly. Doctor, Lieutenant Hayes is 
dead!" The merry-hearted Irishman lay in his ham- 
mock in the composure of an easy sleep. His light had 
gone out in a single instant. Later, our friend, Mr. 



CAMP FOED. 133 

Parce, grew weaker. An order came to send the " citi- 
zen prisoners " to Mexico ; it did not revive him. His 
strength waned, but his placid cheerfulness was still un- 
disturbed. " It is a bad sign," said one of his friends, 
" if he were only cross and fretful, we might hope." 
The sign did not pass away; and with the prospect of 
home and liberty held before him he died. We knew that 
at this rate, another year would leave very few survivors 
to be carried from the camp. 

One gloomy evening, as we sat pondering and talking 
over our affairs, rumor came in and told us a new tale. 
It said that the prisoners were to be 'paroled and sent 
forthwith to the Federal lines. The rumor was confirm- 
ed within a day or two by Major Barnes ; but when the 
paroling officer came, it appeared that it was not alto- 
gether true ; the seamen and privates were to be pa- 
roled ; the officers were to be sent to Camp Ford. 

It behooved us now to find ways and means for carry- 
ing our remaining efi'ects to their new abode. By the 
aid of Major Barnes we succeeded in chartering two 
wagons for fifteen hundred dollars. We also secured an 
old hack to carry Mrs. Stratford and four sick officers at 
fifty dollars apiece. Some of us strove hard to purchase 
a poor horse or cheap pony that would carry us at any 
gait. In this race honor compels me to confess that the 
efifrontery of the navy completely distanced the army. 
Early one morning the camp rang with cries of " Here's 
yer mule." Through the admiring throng appeared an 
animal of that description towed in by Captain Dilling- 



134 PRISON CAMPS. 

ham. It was a peculiar animal — small, old, uglj, vic- 
ious, and one-eyed. The Captain had bought him on our 
joint account, and had paid for him one hundred and 
fifty dollars in the currency of the Confederate States of 
!N"orth America. This alarmingly low price was due to 
the recent loss of his left optic, causing a dangerous sore, 
which, the vend-or thought, would not j)rove fatal before 
we reached Camp Ford. The example was speedily 
followed by Captain Crocker of the ''Clifton," who bought 
another mule, and by Captain Johnson of the " Sachem," 
who bought a third, and by Surgeon Sherfy of the 
" Morning Light," who bought an old " calico" horse that 
the sailors immediately named " Quinine." The army, 
either from excess of modesty or excess of poverty, did 
not succeed, 1 regret to say, in buying anything. 

" Can we ride there on a mule bare-back ?" was the 
question. " Decidedly not," was the answer. 

Yet a good saddle in Texas would cost as much as e, 
good horse. In this state of doubt we were relieved by 
purcha-sing of a contraband an old wooden " tree " with 
►a strap or two and a piece of raw-hide hanging to it. It 
bore about the same relation to a saddle that a pair of 
old wheels do to a cart. But we went to work. And 
here again the army was eclipsed by the navy. I had 
been a cavalry officer, and thought I knew a thing or 
two about broken saddles, and accounted myself fertile 
in such expedients, but the Captain borrowed a sailor's 
needle and palm-thimble ; brought out an old marlin- 
spike and some rope, and stitched and spliced with a 



CAMP FORD. 135 

neatness and rapidity that threw me in the shade. Tnink 
straps were speedily transferred and changed into girths, 
some rope was spliced and lashed around a wooden shoe 
till it became a stirrup, and pieces of raw-hide were 
bound to the "tree" till it fairly grew to be a saddle. 

As the time of departure approached another subject 
engrossed our attention. Eating continued to be the 
chief thought and passion of our lives. "Whatever could 
be bought to eat we bought. Our stoves ran literally 
night and day in baking hard-tack; and we, duly in- 
structed by a professional cracker-baker, pounded dough 
till our arms ached. 

There was still another subject of interest to many. 
A large part of the officers belonged either to the navy 
or to new regiments. They were entirely innocent of 
having slept out a night in their lives, and knew noth- 
ing of marches and bivouacs. The fuss which they made 
about this expected movement was in the highest degree 
amusing to those who, by virtue of a year or two's ser- 
vice, dubbed themselves veterans. They looked on with 
smiles as they saw the others making good blankets into 
poor shelter-tents, and winked to each other when they 
heard the new men confidently assure one another that 
they could stand it now, even if there should be a wet 
night upon the marcli. 

After some delay there came in five or six impressed 
wagons and a squadron of stalwart men mounted on 
large, well-fed horses. They were chiefly stock breeders 
from the prairies, and boasted of being the best mounted 



136 PRISON CAMPS. 

troop in Texas. All of these men owned the horses they 
rode, and many brought with them a led horse and ser- 
vant. They were supposed to be men of miquestionable 

secession sentiments, and were employed chiefly in hunt- 
ing down conscripts and guarding prisoners. 

On the ninth of December our seamen and privates 
left us, and we were notified to be ready on the eleventh. 
Our two wagons came down — a quantity of yapon was 
gathered and dried — a last baking of biscuit was made, 
and our stoves were duly incased in open boxes with 
beckets so as to be readily loaded and unloaded. 

A move is always interesting ; after months of dreary 
idleness it is exciting. Happy did we seem, and happy 
did we feel as on the cold, foggy morning we marched 
down the '' wood-road," crossed the little brook, and left 
Camp Groce at last behind us. The new Captain — a 
tall, powerful Texan, with a determined eye and stern, 
compressed lips — evidently understood his business. He 
kept us well together, managed his own men with few 
words and great judgment, and watched the column 
with close vigilance. The one-eyed mule behaved with 
gravity and decorum, never showing any unnecessary 
signs of life or unseemly gayety, except once when he 
slipped his bridle and ran away like a deer. 

Before three o'clock we went into camp on a little 
brook called "Kane's Creek." Thanks to the autumn 
rains, there was some water in the " creek," and thanks 
to the December frosts, it was clear and cold. The pro- 
ceedings of our naval friends were a new chapter in my 



i 



CAMP FOED. 137 

experience of bivouacs, l^otwithstanding the clear sky 
and roaring camp-fires, edifices called shelter-tents were 
erected, with an immense amount of consultation and 
anxiety. Heavy mattresses were unpacked from the 
wagons and lugged to the tents. Stoves were unloaded 
and put up under trees, where they soon smoked and 
steamed as did the excited cooks who hovered around 
them. So elaborate, indeed, was the dinner of our 
mess, that the short winter day closed ere Lieutenant 
Dane dofted his apron, and summoned us to our seats 
around the camp-fire. By its light I saw a sirloin of 
roast beef, a large piece of corned, sweet potatoes, corn 
bread and butter, flap-jacks and sauce, tea, cofi"ee and 
cake. 

'' What are you doing ?" asked somebody, as I drew 
out my pencil and note-book. " I thought you never 
took notes ; it was only an hour ago you were telling 
me that a note-book spoils a good traveller." 

" I am noting down this bill of fare. After my rough 
experience in our army of the "West, this dinner seems 
too ridiculous to be believed." 

" I suppose you will publish it in the newspapers 
when you get out ?" 

" Yes, I rather think I shall." 

" Well, it's the last of the pepper," said the caterer, 
*' so mind and put it down." 

" Yes, by all means." 

" And they say we can buy no sugar at Tyler," said 
another ; " so mind and put it down." 

" Certainly ; anything else ?" 



13S PRISON CAMPS. 

" There's some salt, and-tliere's a liard-tack. Perhaps 
you think they are luxuries. And here's a candle, 
moulded in the neck of a bottle — hadn't you better men- 
tion it ?" 

" I think I had — the mould was so ingenious. You 
remember I invented it myself." 

" You haven't exposed the fact that it's our last pound 
of coffee, treasured up for this journey ?" 

" Certainly not." 

" ITor that the tea grew in Texas ?" 

" No." 

" Don't — a few such secrets exposed will destroy the 
whole effect of the bill. And now, if the dinner isn't 
too much for you, let us box up the stove, while those 
delicate young gentlemen wash the dishes." 

So we boxed up the stove, and washed the dishes, and 
lit our pipes, and sat looking in the glowing camp-fire. 
And then our three naval Captains crawled into a tight 
little shelter-tent, where they suffocated and perspired, 
and caught cold. The army part of the mess spread 
their blankets and lay down, with their feet against a 
smoking log, their heads resting on their knapsacks, and 
their eyes watching the stars, which twinkled them 
asleep. 

The bugle called us long before daylight to prepare 
our breakfast and re-load the wagons. I cannot pay 
Captain Davis a better compliment, than by saying that 
for fi.ve successive mornings we moved off at precisely 
6-45, and then for six successive mornings at precisely 
seven. This day the road ran over some fine rolling 



ill 

I 



CAMP FORD. 139 

country, occasionally clean and park-like, with stately 
trees sprinkled here and there, and entirely free from 
young wood and "underbrush. The weatlier was delight- 
ful, but we went into camp before two o'clock, after a 
march of only fourteen miles. 

The next morning as we started, a cold gust of north 
wind struck us. It was not a " norther," but a sudden 
change of weather from warm to cold. All the morning 
we breasted it, and it blew keener and keener as the day 
advanced. Early in the afternoon we encamped in an 
open wood, which gave bu-t poor shelter from the pierc- 
ing gale. The little stream that formed our watering 
place was coated with ice, and the ice grew thicker with 
each hour. "We set ourselves at the work of unloading 
the wagons and the heavier work of chopping wood for 
the large camp-fire that must burn all night. The stove 
went up and puffed and steamed as usual, and all 
endeavored to impress upon the mind of our amateur 
clief that this extreme cold was only an additional reason 
that we should eat. 

While we were fresh from a sharp walk, with the 
blood stirred by the active labors of the camp, we were 
comfortable enouo^h. When we first threw ourselves 
down before the fire all aglow, saying we were thank- 
ful that the work was done, we still felt indifierent 
to the cold north wind. But presently it crept in, and 
sent a shivering chill over the frame. Tiien the nervous 
energy relaxed, and one felt great need of a warm room 
where he could hide himself from the blast, and fall 



140 PETSON CAMPS. 

asleep if only for an hour. The dinner and the hot tea 
that accompanied it braced iis up somewhat, and fitted 
lis for bed. Our three naval friends again crawled into 
their shelter tent, where (inasmuch as it was at a pru- 
dent distance from the fire) they nearly froze to death. 
The remainder of the mess used the shelter-tent, a large 
tree and the stove-box as a wind-break, and put their 
feet almost in the fire. For some hours we all slept 
soundly, as men must who have marched and worked 
since long before day. But although the blankets w^ere 
drawn over our heads and the wind-break seemed to 
afi'ord ample protection, the cutting air pushed its way 
in. It crawled through the hair and curled itself round 
the neck, and sent the same shivery chills over the body. 
I rose and warmed myself by rolling a couple of large 
logs on the fire, and prizing them into their places. The 
scene around me w^as wild in the extreme, for every 
mess had built a large fire, and the flames of these 
leaped and roared in the blast, and sent large sparks 
flying through the tree-tops; while in the fiery light, 
picturesque figures could be seen crouching over the 
embers or throwing fresh w^ood into the flames. 

The bugle again called us up, while the stars were yet 
shining, to find the dodger we had baked over night, and 
the cold beef we had put by for breakfast, frozen harder 
than paving stones. Close seated by the fire, we ate a 
moody breakfast, each one declaring that he had not 
slept one hour during the night, and that he wanted to 
turn in again. Instead of doing so, we took the road, 



CAMP FOED. 141 

now solid as a rock. The horses had to stamp through 
the ice to drink, and the " Sunny South " seemed frozen 
hard as the hills of the Adirondack. 

Passing through Iluntsville, we found ourselves upon 
a sandy road, and travelling through dull woods, whose 
wear}^ sameness lasted with hardly an interruption for 
one hundred and fifty miles. Toward evening we 
encamped beside a deep ravine. The clouds gathered 
darkly overhead, and the rain began to fall. It bore all 
the appearances of one of our cold IN'orember storms, 
and we anticipated a tempestuous night. But then 
came one of the phenomena of the Texan climate. With 
darkness the rain stopped ; and the stars seemed to dis- 
perse the clouds. But with daylight the clouds returned, 
and as we re-commenced the march, the rain came down 
heavily. The matter was made worse by our imme- 
diately descending to the "Trinity bottom," a rich, 
alluvial plain, three miles in width, composed of the 
greasiest of mud. When we had dragged ourselves 
across this, we were suddenly stopped by the Trinity, 
a narrow stream, deep channelled between preci]3itous 
clay banks. A road was cut down each bank, and the 
usual scow and rope-ferry appeared at the bottom. The 
prisoners who first arrived on foot were immediately 
carried over. They scrambled up the opposite bank and 
instantly made a fire, around which they closely hud- 
dled. As the wagons arrived, they were hurried 
aboard of the scow, for every moment made matters 
worse. A crowd of men surrounded each wagon as it 



142 PEISON CAMPS. 



landed, pusliing, pulling, jelling, and in various ways 
'' encouraging the mules." Those extraordinary animals 
pulled and strained and slipped ; now down, now up 
again, exhausted, and then renewing their efforts, until 
slowly and inch by inch every wagon was carried to 
the top of the bank. The scow covered with mules and 
white-topped wagons, the struggling teams, the shout- 
ing men, the howling of the wind, the beating of the 
rain, all made up a romantic picture. But the toil we 
paid for it was extreme, and the crossing of this narrow 
river cost us two hours of time. 

We stopped at two houses after crossing, to make some 
purchases. At the first, the lady of the house (a rather 
stout female, with a coarse voice and red face) had lost 
neither children nor relatives in the war, but neverthe- 
less cherished a holy hatred of Yankees. Wh-en she 
learnt that we were of that despised race, and had come 
into her house to buy something, her wrath became ter- 
rific. It even overpowered the irresistible efirontery of 
the navy. Two of our Captains, who between them had 
never failed to win the Texan fair, assayed her, but the 
humor of the one and the blandishments of the other 
were sent spinning about their ears. "Josiah," she 
said to her abashed husband, while she quivered with 
rage, '^ don't, sell them anything, the nasty beasts, I 
didn't know I hated them so. Don't sell the beasts a 
thing. Corn meal is too good for them." Tie, poor 
man, said "no," but when our two naval commissaries 
got him alone, they made mince-meat of his scruples in 



CAMP FOED. 143 

no time. He humedly shovelled a bushel of potatoes 
into their bag, received his live dollars, and begged them 
to leave by the side door, as most convenient and least 
exposed to observation. 

At the other of these houses, the woman had lost two 
sons in battle. When she learnt that some of her visitors 
were enemies and prisoners, she only hastened to express 
her pity. She spread her simple board with all that her 
larder contained, and made them sit down. Of some 
little articles, such as milk and butter and egg^, she liter- 
ally gave them all she had. Other things that they 
wished to purchase, she sold — she offered to give, but 
they forced the money upon her. And when they rose 
to go^ she expressed again her sympathy, and hoped that 
God would be with them, and comfort them, and send 
them deliverance. 

When we were fairly across the river, and well 
drenched, the rain stopped, and the freezing north wind 
began to blow. Colder and colder it grew ; and when 
we passed from the woods to the last prairie we were to 
see, we had to face a gale. We struggled against this 
for miles, until, late in the afternoon, there appeared, on 
the other side of the plain, a little stage-house, and be- 
yond it timber of scraggly trees, small and scattered. It 
was a poor place to bivouac, but the scarcity of water 
in this arid country leaves travellers little choice of 
camping grounds. We halted, therefore, in this bleak 
spot, and speedily came to the conclusion, that it would 
be " the coldest night yet." The stove was unloaded as 



144r PRISON CAMPS. 

usual, and " put up ;" its pipe, lashed to a sapling to keep 
it from blowing away, and some stove wood chopped. 
Our indefatigable clief then assumed command, and, 
despite wind and cold, proceeded to roast a lovely loin 
of delicate pork, purchased of the good woman of the 
morning, and to serve it up at the proper time with de- 
licious brown crackling and entrancing hot gravy. Be- 
fore that rapturous moment came there was much work 
to be done. The wood had to be dragged some distance, 
for the trees were sparse, and on such a night the fire 
must be fed with no sparing hand. The water had to be 
carried, and it was a half-mile distant and at the bottom 
of a well two hundred feet deep. A tedious job was 
this, and one that seemed as though it would never end. 
The pails, the tea-kettle and the iron-j)ot w^ere all mus- 
tered and carried to the well, but others were there be- 
fore us, and we had to wait our turn. Yery slowly the 
bucket came creeping up while we stood shivering in the 
wind, and when it appeared it was half empty, and a 
dozen pail's were waiting to be filled before the first of 
ours. At last when tea-kettle, pot and pails were full, 
and we were nearly perished, we picked them up and 
navigated them through the thick brush-wood and 
against the bitter wind till the ungloved hands were 
nearly frozen to the iron handles, and the stifi* arms 
ready to drop ofi". Then, too, our cJief^ like all great 
artists in that most useful art, w^as cross, and asked in- 
dignantly why we had not comeback sooner — if it was 
so pleasant down at that well that we must stay there 



CAMP FORD. 145 

all day — if we did not know that nothing could be done 
without water — 'if w^e could not understand that the 
lovely loin of pork was well nigh spoilt already. We, 
who were hewers of wood and drawers of water, bore all 
this meekly and explained. Our chef^ though an ama- 
teur, was about as reasonable as an accomplished female 
of the same profession, and would hear no explanation. 
He knew tliat if he had gone he would have found a 
way to get it. We secretly expressed to each other 
sympathy for scullions, waiters, and other unfortunate 
persons having business relations with cooks — we crouch- 
ed down by the fire and thawed our frozen fingers — and 
then the chef sent us back to the well for more water. 

" Now spread the night her spangled canopy, 
And summon'd every restless eye to sleep." 

The stove was down and ready to be repacked — the 
water pails (refilled) stood close before the fire — the 
stove box, the mess-chest and the shelter-tent again were 
united for a wind-break — all our night work was done, 
and there was no reason why w^e should not sleep, l^o 
reason but this bitter north-wind, before which the flames 
of all the surrounding fires leaned down and the sparks 
.flew level along the ground. And those fires, too, seem- 
ed trivial and feeble ; the logs that were piled upon 
them were as heavy as two men could lift, yet were not 
large enough for such a night as this. Again and again 
we woke, aching with the cold ; and again and again, 
after crouching over the fire, we returned wearily to our 

7 



146 PRISON CAMPS. 

blankets and songlit to steal, ere the reveille, a little 
rest. 

" The purple morning left her crimson bed, 
And donn'd her robe of pure vermilion hue, 
Her amber locks she crowned with roses red 
In Eden's flowery gardens gathered new." 

And we resumed the march with blue noses and frost- 
ed beards. The wagons rumbled over the frozen ground 
as upon a rock ; the horses shivered and shook more 
pitiably than their riders. There was unwonted courtesy 
amongst us. " Do try my mule a little while." " E'o, 
I thank you ; I could not think of depriving you of him 
this morning." And then the owner, not to be outdone, 
would dismount, and run along behind his mule with 
much stamping of the feet and beating of the hands. 
Comparatively happy then were those wealthy individ- 
uals who owned gloves, or w^ho wore something thicker 
than a summer blouse. Yet the biting air wrought its 
own cure among the foot passengers and gave them an ex- 
hilaration that beat down its benumbing pain ; the thread- 
bare, ragged and half-naked crowd, shivering in summer 
clothing, uttered no whinings, but bravely pushed along, ' ■ 
rejoicing that broken boots and tattered garments still 
held together, and wishing only that they could keep on 
against the north wind, till they reached the North. 
Less happy were the few who, seated in the old hack, 
rode glum and testy with upheaved shoulders and stiff 
necks, and mile after mile spoke never a word. 

Thus, after seven hours' steady marching, we turned 



CAMP FORD. 147 

from tlie road and went down into a little liollow wliere 
a small rill fiirnislied us with water, and 2:ood lars^e trees 
with firewood. Here the members of onr mess, partly to 
make up for the previous night, and partly in the hope 
of attaining comfort, built a fire, which (among them- 
selves) gave to the place the name of the " Camp of the 
Big Fire." 

We were first on the camping ground, and chose our 
tree, a dry oak more than two feet across the stump. 
Giving due notice to all that they had better stand from 
under, the commander of the " Sachem " swung a strong 
axe against it till it fell. The two largest logs were 
chopped off, each twelve or fourteen feet long. Skids 
were cut and laid, and every man, provided with a stifiT 
handspike, lifted and strained till the largest log was 
raised, " cut round," rolled, re-rolled and placed against 
its own stump as a brace. The skids w^ere then hauled 
out and relaid ; and the second log was brought oppo- 
site to the first. The skids were next made into an in- 
clined plane, and we, by stout pushing, rolled the second 
log up this bridge until it rested on top of the first. We 
then had a solid wooden wall nearly five feet high. In 
front we placed huge andirons of logs as thick as a man's 
body. On these we rolled smaller logs, and piled limbs 
and small wood until the whole sloped clown from the 
top of the wall to a line six or seven feet distant from its 
base. We worked until the whole tree was in the pile. 
Then we set fire to it. It kindled slowly, but burnt 
gloriously. There was no rolling out of our blankets 



148 PRISON CAMPS. 

that niglit to put wood on the fire. We could feel our 
wooden wall throwing its rays down upon us as we lay- 
before it on the frozen ground. It let no heat pass 
through, for while one side was a mass of red-hot embers 
the ice had not melted from the other. We slept until 
the bugle called us in the morning, and then found 
that a little rollino- together of half-burnt los-s and a 
slight shaking up of unfinished brands gave us a splendid 
fire to breakfast by. 

Thus we went on, until upon the twelfth day of our 
march we passed through the little town of Tyler and ap- 
proached Camp Ford. We felt some curiosity as to the 
appearance and comfort of this new abode. The ques- 
tion put to travellers whom we met always brought the 
reply that the prisoners were in houses quite comforta- 
ble. In houses prisoners might well be comfortable — 
much better to have houses than the dismal barracks of 
Camp Groce. At last the road wound round a little 
knoll, covered with pine and scraggly oak and disclosed 
the camp. We saw on a side-hill a barn-yard of a place, 
encompassed by a stockade fence fifteen feet high. 
Within, partly burrowed and partly built, was an irregu- 
lar group of log shanties, small, dark and dirty. A 
naval friend stood at my side, who had been confident 
that we should find everything to our liking, and whose 
motto was " ^Nothing is too good for prisoners." I 
glanced at him and saw that, since I last looked, his 
countenance had grown immeasurably longer. A lieu- 
tenant of my regiment was on the outside of the stockade 



CAMP FOED. 149 

waiting to welcome me. He was a young and neat 
Kew- Yorker when I last saw liim, but his dress now 
consisted ol* ;i < .air of ragged trowsers and an old woolen 
shirt without arms. 

" What kind of times have you fallen upon, Mr. L?" 
I asked. 

" I^ot very good, Colonel," lie replied, rather dolefully, 
and then brightening added, " But we have very good 
quarters — at least jfor prisoners /" 

My naval friend looked at the lieutenant sternly and 
with disgust. He never forgave that speech. 

The roll was called. "We were marched forward. The 
gate opened and admitted us to seven months more of 
imprisonment. Within every thing looked gloomy and 
squallid. My own officers I hardly recognized ; the oj:hers 
bore in their dress and mien the unmistakable marks of 
hardship and destitution. A Captain in my regiment 
came up, and after the usual greetings invited me into 
his " shebang " and to dinner. I walked in and looked 
around, I fear with some disgust. A dodger had just 
been turned out of its pan and cut up. 

" I can't stay to dinner. Captain," I said ; " we have a 
wagon to unload ; but I'll try a piece of the dodger." 

I took a piece and walked out. The gentlemen of the 
" shebans: " said nothino^. But afterward there was a 
story told of the afi'air. It was this : 

" Tlie dodger was the whole of the dinner." 



150 PEISON CAMPS. 



IX. 

A DINNER. 

The prisoners at Camp Ford were poor. Tliej even 
thought themselves too poor to borrow. They possessed 
no sn23plies to sell ; and in manufactures they had not 
risen above carved pipes and chessmen. They lived on 
their rations and cooked those rations in the simplest 
manner. Half of them had no tables, and more than 
half no table furniture. The plates and spoons did 
treble duty, travelling about from "shebang" to "she- 
bang" (as they called the hovels they had built) in 
regular succession. 

"We rated them soundly about their condition, and 
asked them why they had lived thus ; to which they 
responded by asking us how they could have lived 
otherwise. We lectured them severely on their not hav- 
ing begged, and above all, on their not having bor- 
rowed ; and they answered, meekly, that no one would 
lend them. "We lent them money, but they received it 
timidly, and expressed fears that they would not be 
able to re-pay it, and doubts as to whether there was 
anything to buy. " I^obody ever had anything to sell," 
they said, " about Tyler." 



A DINNER. 151 

A few days had passed in tlie work of improving our 
" sliebang," and we sat one niglit around the fire 
moodily, talking over the state of our afi'airs. We were 
in the midst of the Christmas holidays, and the contrasted 
scenes of home pressed rather heavily upon us, and made 
the present, perhaps, seem darker than it really was. 

" Something must be done," said some one, " to raise 
these fellows up. They are completely down^ and if we 
don't get them up, why they will pull us down too." 

" I never saw such fellows," said a naval prisoner. 
'' Tliey could have got clothing from the Confederates just 
as easily as we did. Here we come in, thin and pale 
and weak, and find them healthy and hearty, and yet all 
down in their boots. They don't seem to have done 
anything to keep themselves alive but cook, and not 
much of that." 

" Thafs the remedy," said a third. " You've hit it 
by accident. * Cook ' is the word. Let us give a dinner- 
party and astonish them." 

" A dinner-party ! We should astonish them, so that 
we'd never hear the last of it." 

" Well, why not ? Didn't some of us ' celebrate ' the 
Fourth atBrashear? and didn't we have a Thanksgiving 
dinner at Camp Groce ? I have great faith in dinners. 
Why can't we have a JSTew Year's dinner here ?" 

" For the best of all reasons, because there's nothing 
to eat. There we had milk and eggs and potatoes and 
onions and a turkey, and " 

*^ The turkey was a windfall, and didn't come till we 



• 

152 PRISON CAMPS. 



had determined to observe the day, and Dillingham had 
issued his proclamation." 

"And pumpkin and pecan nuts, and beef." 

" Well, I'm sure we have beef." 

" Yes, we have, look at the stuff, look at it," and our 
friend pointed to a dark, dry-looking, fatless lump, that 
hung from a rafter. " We have got heef^ and we have 
got flour, and sugar, and bacon, and those are all." 

" Something may turn up if we resolve on it." 

" ' Something may turn up !' Yes, it may, and when 
it turns up, we'll give a party." 

All agreed to this common sense conclusion, except 
two obstinate members of the mess, and they were 
Lieutenant Dane, of the signal corps, and myself. 

On the morrow (the thirtieth of December) we went 
to the gate, presented our compliments to the ser- 
geant of the guard, and informed him that private 
business with Colonel Allen, commanding, etc., required 
a personal interview\ The sergeant communicated the 
fact to a gentleman in butternut, who took his rifle and 
strolled leisurely over to head-quarters with us. The 
Colonel smiled pleasantly, and as he wrote out the pass, 
said in a well-bred way, that he never doubted the 
honor of his prisoners, though he sometimes had a little 
fear of their discretion, and that when he was applied to 
by gentlemen who would be discreet in their inter- 
course w^ith the country people, it aflbrded him great 
pleasure to let them out on parole. 

The lieutenant and I returned to our quarters, and 



A DINNEE. 153 

hung around our necks a couple of canteens and three 
or four haversacks ; we took a basket and bag, received 
with gravity sundry bits of ironical advice, and then 
presenting to the sergeant of the guard our pass, stepped 
out of Camp Ford oh parole. 

The road carried us into the woods. At the end of 
half a mile we descended a hill, crossed a little brook, 
and found ourselves close upon the white house and 
negro-cabins of a plantation. At the door we encoun- 
tered a sour-faced, respectable man, with whom we were 
50on engaged in the following delightful dialogue : 

'' Good day, sir." 

" Good day." 

" Have you any dried fruit to sell ?" 

" No." 

" 'No apples ?" 

" IsTo." 

" ]^or peaches ?" 

" E"o." 

" Any eggs ?" 

" No." 

" Any chickens ?" 

" No." 

" Couldn't you spare some potatoes ?" 

" No." 

" Nothing to sell for cash, at the highest of prices ?" 

"No." 

" Good day, sir." 

" Good day." 

7* 



154: PEISON CAMPS. 

It was two miles of dull walking to tlie next lionse. 
A plain-looking old woman appeared and invited ns in. 
As ill-luck would have it, her two sons had been cap- 
tured at Arkansas Post. Still more unluckily, the two 
sons, when ill, had been placed in different hospitals, 
and some surgeon with petty tyranny had refused to let 
the one brother visit the other. "We explained that there 
w^ere fools in both armies, who treated their own sol- 
diers in the same way. But the old lady said she would 
forgive everything but that. That was unnecessary 
cruelty. She then heaped coals of fire upon our unof- 
fending heads by presenting to us a pumpkin, and by 
authorizing her chief contraband, who bore the fruitful 
name of " Plenty," to sell us from his own private stores 
a bushel of sweet potatoes. Leaving these treasures till 
we should return, we went on. 

At the third house we had the same conversation over 
that we enjoyed at the first, and as we turned back into 
the road it began to rain. " Shall we go back or go 
on?" was the question. '' How far did they say it was to 
the next house, two miles?" "Yes, two miles. If we 
go on we shall be wet, perhaps frozen. But no matter; 
that is better than going back and acknowledging a 
failure. Come on." 

Three miles more, and we came to another house, 
owned by another old lady. Everything about it was 
rigidly in order and stifily neat. There was a startling 
combination of colors in her parlor ; for the floors were 
unpainted, the walls were white, the ceiling blue, the 



I 



A DINNER. 155 

wainscoting red, and the blinds green. Again we were 
told that there was nothing to sell. But luckily, at the 
first item oti our list, the old lady's black overseer came 
in, and being an intelligent contraband, pricked up his 
ears and asked, what the gentlemen wanted to pay for 
dried peaches. We inquired what price he asked for 
them. He reckoned that he had 'bout a peck, and that 
a peck in these times ought to bring $5 ; and we thought 
that $5 was precisely the sum we ought to pay for a 
peck of peaches. This purchase being happily effected, 
we ran over the list, but to every item our sable friend 
*' reckoned not," till we mentioned milk. At that liquid 
name, a thought evidently struck him. He hadn't no 
milk, but he had vinegar — cider- vinegar — ^he made it his 
own self, and he reckoned that in these times it ought to 
bring $1 a quart. "We forthwith entrusted him with 
every canteen, to be filled full of this precious, and 
indeed, unrivalled fluid. We then re-applied to the old 
lady to know whether she really couldn't sell us some- 
thing. But no, not even our free-handed expenditures 
and the absence of all Yankee cuteness in us, cauld 
bring forth the old lady's stores. 

As we retraced our steps we noticed a small log-house 
near the road, and a middle-aged woman barbecuing 
beef under a little shed. " Let us try here," one of us 
said ; and we went up to the fence and asked for eggs. 
The woman thought she had a few, and civilly invited us 
to come in out of the rain. We went in, and found that 
the house consisted of but one room, and all looked 



156 PRISON CAMPS. 



"wretched and forlorn. ISTearly a dozen eggs were pro- 
duced, and then the woman bethought herself of a cer- 
tam fowl that might as well be sold, and set her 
eldest boys to catch him. A great cackling presently 
announced the fate of the fowl, and the boys, coming 
in out of breath, informed us that they had run him 
down. He was a vagabond-looking young cock, who, 
any one would swear, ought to -come to an untimely end, 
and I felt a moral pleasure as I tied his legs and popped 
him into the basket. 

And now we had the task of walking six miles back 
in the rain. As we mounted a rocky ridge we noticed 
near the road some sumach. The sumach had been so 
scarce at Camp Groce that we thought this a prize. 
Setting down our baskets, therefore, we went to work 
picking sumach, and as we filled our havei'sacks, we 
talked of the dinner. 

" The last haul is a prize. Colonel," said Lieutenant 
Dane. " The vinegar is a treasure, and the peaches are 
worth their weight in Confederate notes. How many 
shall we ask to dine with us ?" 

" Yes, it settles the question of dinner. After such 
luck as this we must go on. I think we can squeeze in 
six on a side, and one at each end — fourteen in all." 

" Fourteen ! Well, now, the question is what shall we 
have ? So far our luck is of a very small pattern — a very 
small pattern indeed. Ten eggs and one chicken of 
themselves won't make much of a dinner for fourteen 



A DINNEE. 157 

" The fact is, we must make this dinner chiefly ont of 
^ our own brains. Give it the whole weight of your mind ; 
think intensely, and see if you can't hit on a way to make 
a dish or two out of chips." 

" Here's this sumach — what would you make of it ?" 

" Look at it philosophically. Analyse it : Taste — 
acid ; Color — red, ll^ow what is there that is acid and 
red r 

" There are currants for one thing, and there's some- 
thing else, I'm sure — oh, cranberries." 

" Then we must make currants and cranberries out 
of sumach. But for my part I'm greatly distressed 
about this wretched fowl — what can we do with him ?" 

" We might boil him, though he is young and will de 
to roast." 

" What are you thinking of? — one small fowl on a 
table before fourteen hungry men ; ridiculous !" 

" Yes, and these healthy fellows have got fearful ap- 
petites. They eat like alligators. When they draw 
three days' beef they devour it in one, for fear (as they 
say) that somebody might steal it. Can't you make a 
salad of him such as you used to send over to us at 
Camp Groce ? Do you know when we first came there 
we all thought the dressing was real ?" 

" Let us see — we have vinegar, to be sure, and some 
red peppers. But there is not time now to mamifactiire 
the mustard, and then we have no milk or butter to 
make the oil from. ISTo! it's very sad, but we can't 
have chicken salad !" 



158 PRISON CAMPS. 



" Well, the haversacks are full, so we may as well go 
on. It rains harder than ever, and that low piece of road 
will be over our boots in mud and water. I wonder if 
we shall find the potatoes and pumpkin all safe ?" 

Our friend " Plenty" duly delivered to us those vegeta- 
bles when we reached his cabin. [N'ow, a couple of 
officers trudging along in the mud on a rainy day, laden 
with a bag of potatoes, a big pumpkin, a couple of over- 
loaded baskets, and several haversacks and canteens, 
cannot present a very elegant or dignified appearance ; 
nevertheless, a tall man mounted on a ragged-looking 
steed, and wearing his head stuck through a hole in the 
middle of his blanket, after the fashion of a Mexican 
poncha, accosted us as " gentlemen," and in most court- 
eous terms desired to know whether this was the road 
to Marshall. lie gave just one quick, keen glance that 
travelled all over us, and rested for a single instant on 
our shoulder straps. 

" I perceive, gentlemen," said he, without the slight- 
est diminution of courtesy, "that you belong to the 
other side." 

I nodded an assent. 

" And that you are officers ?" 

I nodded again. 

" I presunae you are prisoners then, and here on pa- 
role ?" 

]^ow, wearing a United States uniform at that time in 
Texas by no means proved that a man was in the United 
States service ; it only indicated that he was a soldier. 



A DINNER. 159 

So many prisoners were in tlidr butternut, and so many 
Confederates in oii^r uniform that a Texan eye rarely 
looked behind the coat to distinguish the kind of soldier 
it covered. When, therefore, our tall friend said, " You 
are on the other side," and added, " you are officers," it 
was plain to us that he had made the close acquaintance 
of our troops in some other way than through the news- 
papers. 

" I perceive that you are an old soldier," I said in re- 
ply. " And I do not think you are a Texan. Allow me 
to ask where you are from ?" 

" I belong to the 1st Missouri Cavalry," said he, 
" and I am from Missouri." 

" From Missouri !" I exclaimed. " Why, I was in 
service there myself during the first year of the war." 

The tall man and I looked steadily at each other in 
mutual astonishment. The same thoughts were passing 
through our minds, and he expressed them first and best 
by saying: 

'' You know, sir, that if you and I had met this way 
in Missouri, that first year of the war, only one of us 
would have walked away, and maybe neither." 

" Y^es," I said, " the war was very bitter there." 

" It was that. No man could have made me believe 
then that I could ever meet an enemy with the same 
friendly feelings I have for you, gentlemen." 

Here our friend began to unbuckle his saddle-bags, 
and after much trouble produced a flat bottle. " A 
friend," he said, " gave me this, and I mean to carry it 
through to Arkansas, if I can, but I must take a drink 



160 PRISON CAMPS. 

with a gentleman that was on the other side in Missouri, 
the first year of the war, if I never drink again as long 
as I live." 

We touched our lips to the detestable poison, and 
thanked our friend for his courtesy. The " border ruf- 
fian " then expressed his great satisfaction at finding we 
were treated as gentlemen and prisoners of war should 
be, and said he doubted if he didn't respect the soldiers 
on " the other side " rather more than he did a good 
many folks on his own. Finally he asked our names — 
gave us his own, which was Woodland — shook hands 
warmly, and rode off. We shouldered our loads and 
plodded on, wondering whether the barbarous and brutal 
trade of war does not of itself inspire men at last with 
some noble and cliivalric sentiments. 

These meditations lasted us till we reached the gate. 
We were somewhat apprehensive that our appearance 
would produce a sensation in camp, and excite anticipa- 
tions of the coming festivities, but luckily the rain and 
cold had driven all within their hovels. We walked 
rapidly past the closed doors of the " shebangs " till we 
hastily kicked open our own, and threw down our loads 
before the eyes of our astonished messmates. Then after 
a savage attack on cold beef and hot dodger, and after 
brewing a hot decoction of sumach to keep the cold out, 
we hung our wet clothes before the fire, and rolled our- 
selves in our warm blankets for the rest of the evening. 
Ere we fell asleep some one came in and said that it was 
freezing, and that the ground was white with snow. 

The ground was white with snow, and so were our 



A DINNER. 161 

blankets the next morning. The north wind blew a 
gale — a goodly sized snow-drift stretched across the floor 
of the " shebang " — the water pail was frozen nearly- 
solid, and a cnp of sumach tea that stood npon the table 
directly in front of the fire was coated with ice. Day- 
light stole in through many chinks and crevices to find 
ns still shivering in our bunks. One gentleman sugges- 
ted that another gentleman rise and cook the breakfast ; 
Imt the other gentleman thought the day would be long 
enough if we had breakfast any time before sunset. A 
humorous man from another " shebang" poked his head 
in the door, and inquired whether we would like to be 
dug out in the course of the day. We took no notice of 
his humor, and shivered in silence. At length the most 
uncomfortable one rolled out, threw a pile of logs upon 
the fire, and swept away the snow. As a matter of course 
the others followed. Breakfast was first disposed of, and 
then Lieutenant Dane began his great work. All of 
that day we w^ere engaged, like Count Rumford, on a 
series of scientific experiments closely allied to the art 
of cookery. When night came we had fought our way 
over all obstacles, and were able to announce that the 
dinner should come off and should be a success. 

The two junior members of the mess had at the outset 
agreed (in bad faith) that if we would cook the dinner, 
they would wait upon the table. We now held them to 
this agreement, and, as a righteous punishment for their 
contempt, determined to cut the dinner up into as many 
courses as we decently could, and make them wash the 



162 PRISON CAMPS. 

plates at the end of every course. The rest of the mess 
who had been abashed by our foraging and overawed by ' 
our experiments, became gradually interested, and joined 
in the work by inviting the guests, manufacturing a 
table,, and chopping an immense pile of wood for the 
evening. 

" Happy l^ew Year's" came to us bright and clear, and 
the prisoners followed the old Dutch custom by wander- 
ing around and wishing each other happier returns of the 
day. At our " shebang " we were compelled to inform 
visitors that we received on the other side of the way. 
We were, in fact, busy beyond powers of description, ^ 
scolding, as I have observed good cooks always scold, 
and ordering in the style that really talented artists 
always order. We had three fires in full blast — 
one in our fire-place, one in our stove, and one under an 
independent pot. I observed, I regret to say, that one 
or two of the invited strolled up with a suspicious air, as 
if they really feared the invitation might be what the 
vulgar term " a sell," and the dinner so much moon- 
shine. It was plain that they were not used to being 
invited out. As the appointed hour approached, the re- 
marks of passers-by gradually called our attention to the 
fact that this was the coldest day ever known in Texas. 
(4° Fahr.) Some extra work was therefore necessary. We 
placed the table across the " shebang " directly in front 
of the fire-place, and close behind the table, hung blankets 
from the roof to the floor, thus curtaining out the cold 
after our Camp Groce plan. There were actually found 



A DmNEK. 163 

rockery plates in camp just sufficient to go round, and 
also two naval table-cloths, which spliced, exactly cover- 
ed the table. We devoted our last three candles to 
illume the festal board ; and we built a fire over a back- 
log as large as a barrel. 

As the hour of six o'clock approached our guests were 
adroitly intercepted at the door, and carried into a 
neighboring cabin, where they were entertained till 
w^anted. When every thing was ready, the last finish- 
ing touches given, and the two waiters fully instructed 
with respect to some strategic movements to be exe- 
cuted behind a curtain, the door was opened, and our 
guests triumphantly marshalled in. As these mis- 
guided men, who for half a year had been devouring 
rations off of tin plates, and had not so much as heard 
the word table-cloth spok-en — as they descended into the 
"shebang," they seemed to be fairly dazed with the 
splendors of the apartment. They sank into their desig- 
nated seats, too much appalled to speak, and only talked 
in subdued tones after three or four courses. Tlie first 
course was on the table. It consisted of soup and 
wheaten bread — flour bread, as it was vulgarly called in 
camp. I observed — at least I had a sort of suspicion — ■ 
that one or two of the guests had an habitual idea that 
soup was all the dinner ; for they looked nervously over 
their shoulders w^hen an adroit w^ alter '(with an eye to 
t-lie morrow,) whisked the soup off the table immediately 
after everybody had been helped once. 
The souf plates were removed by one waiter : he dis- 



164: PRISON CAMPS. 

appeared with them behind the curtain, and re-appeared 
with the dinner-set in about the time the other waiter had 
placed the second course upon tlie table. It might have 
been remarked that our soup plates were rather shallow, 
and our dinner plates, by contrast, rather deep ; but the 
eyes of our guests were too dazzled to perceive such 
slight peculiarities. We knew that it was a wise maneu- 
vre to show great profusion at the beginning of a dinner. 
The guests then have their anxiety allayed, and carry 
with them an overpowering idea of plenty, which of 
itself allays the appetite. Accordingly we double shot- 
ted this gun. At the head of the table appeared a dish 
not generally known or appreciated. Sweet potatoes 
and beef entered largely into its composition. A hungry 
naval officer had introduced it into the mess, and he 
called it scoiise. Yet it served a certain purpose well, 
and was skilfully slipped in at this jDoint to attract the 
attention of gentlemen with vigorous appetites. At the 
other end appeared a broiled sj^are-rib, and the lines of 
communic ition between these right and left wings were 
kept open by detachments of squash, turnips, boiled po- 
tatoes, and craiiberry sauce. "With secret pleasure we 
saw our friends lay in heavil}^ of the scouse, and deceive 
themselves into the foolish belief that we had thrown 
two courses together, and that this was the dinner. 

But the next" course came on, with clean plates, in the 
imposing form and substance of a Chicken Pie. A mag- 
nificent chicken pie it was, filling an immense pan, and 
richly crowned with brown crust heaving up above the 



A BmNER. 165 

Ibrim. It had no accompaniments save baked potatoes, 
and constituted of itself an entire army corps. No one 
associated with it the idea of anything little, or nig- 
gardly, or economical. On the contrary, all applauded 
it enthusiastically, and declared that it alone would have 
. made a dinner. 

From the gravity of this heavy dish we passed to the 
gayety of mince and pumpkin pies. These were the only 
common-place things in the dinner. They were followed 
by a course of tarts — small, refined-looking tarts, ele- 
gantly covered with currant jelly and beautiful pear 
preserves. This course was surprisingly showy and 
genteel, impressing beholders with, the idea that there 
must be a pastry-cook shop concealed somewhere in the 
camp. Our grand climax was one of those eiForts of 
genius sometimes called "jelly-cake," sometimes " La- 
fayette cake," sometimes " Washington pie." It was 
some eighteen inches in diameter, and four or five inches 
thick, (the exact size of our dodger pot), a beautiful 
brown on the outside, and a rich golden yellow within, 
and when cut was seen to be divided by strata of tempt- 
ing jelly. Finally, we closed with coifee (not corn, but 
Java) and tea (not Thea Chinensis, but Thea Texana), 
and tobacco inhaled through pipes, instead of through 
the original leaf. We broke up, after the usual four 
hours' sitting of a respectable party, with the usual cour- 
tesies and ceremonies. One or two late men stayed, as 
they always do, to tell their best stories ; and one or two 
early men slipped off, as they always do, on the plea of 



• 



;lie a 

hi ' 



166 PRISON CAMPS. a 

domestic eno^as-ements. There was one or two small 
mishaps, such as a slight infusion of red pepper in the 
coffee (occasioned by one of the cooks grinding the pep- |i 
per first), and the house getting a-fire (caused by the | 
stoker piling the wood as high as the log mantel), but 
the affair, as a whole, was a grand, noble, pliilanthropic 
success. 

For the benefit of those persons who (allured by the 
brightness of this report) desire to become prisoners 
will minutely narrate how this wonderful result was 
obtained. 

The soup was real, and probably the strongest thing 
of the kind ever made, for a choice assortment of beef- 
bones were boiled for thirty-six hours. The turnips and 
spare-rib were a present from the Confederate Commis- 
sary, Lieutenant Ross, and came in the very nick of 
time. That solitary fowl we had discussed for a mile or 
two of our walk back, and had finally determined to put 
him in a pie. But the only pie-dish we could procure 
was a large tin milk-pan. To have a dish' half full of 
pie would never do. It was necessary both to have pie 
enough and to fill the dish. From Confederate beef we 
selected pieces free from fat and grizzle, and tlien took 
the fowl and chopped him up bones and all. The beef 
was also chopped, and the two mixed thoroughly to- 
gether. The fragments of bone, to which some prejudiced 
housewives would have objected, were of great value to 
us in establishing the authenticity of the pie ; for a man 
who, with every mouthful he took, pricked his tongue on 



A DINNER. 167 

a splinter of cliioken bone, could not doubt (if he were a 
reasoning creature) that he was eating chicken pie. 

The next, and perhaps the greatest achievement of ouy. 
art, was in the currant and -cranberry line. We made, 
after many experiments, a strong decoction of sumach. 
Into this we stirred flour, slightly browned to reduce its 
color and take off the raw taste. When this mixture was 
properly sweetened and cooled it made a dark, pasty 
substance, looking and tasting precisely like poor currant 
jelly. The cranberry sauce was more difficult, and in- 
volved repeated experiments. Finally a handful of dried 
peaches was chopped up, so that when cooked the pieces 
would appear about the size of cranberries. To get rid 
of their peach flavor, we soaked them and boiled them 
and drained the water oif, and then cooked them slight- 
ly in a decoction of sumach, and added sugar in the usual 
way. Although every one must have known that there 
were no cranberries in Texas, yet no one dared to ques- 
tion the reality of this dish. It was not cranberry, but 
it was so like cranberry that they could not imagine 
what else it could be, and feared to betray their igno- 
rance. 

A shrewd observer will have noticed the fact that our 
invaluable peaches nowhere appeared on the bill of fare. 
Indeed they were very carefully kept out of sight, and 
did duty in the secret service. Tliose mince pies ! They 
were made of peaches — of peaches and mince-meat, well 
flavored, and moistened with cider-vinegar. I cannot 
assert that they were poor, for we had no other mince- 



168 PEISON CAMPS. 

pies wlierewitli to compare tliem ; I cannot deny tliat 
they were good, because they were all eaten up. The 
proof was in their favor. 

The big pumpkin that we carried under one arm till 
benumbed, and on one shoulder till a stiff neck for life 
threatened us, was a very useful vegetable. In one 
course it appeared as squash ; in another as pumpkin, 
and in a third as pear. The chief cook recollected hav- 
ing seen or heard of pumpkin preserves, and our early 
experiments pointed to ultimate success. To succeed, 
however, the simplest common sense told us we must 
have a name for our invention. To call it puinphirb 
sweatmeats would ruin it. We knew that guava jelly 
and preserved ginger must become bankrupt under such 
a label. Accordingly we cut the pumpkin in pieces, 
like those of a quartered pear ; we stewed it till it was 
not quite done (a little tough where the core ought 
to be) ; we spiced it with sassafras, prickly-ash, a few 
cloves, and the last half of a nutmeg, and we called it 
]3ear-preserve. 

It will be remembered that I alluded to a gigantic 
cake, beautifully brown without and richly yellow 
within. This magnificent work of art, truth compels me 
to say, was a failure. Its golden richness was not due to 
eggs but to corn-meal. We mixed a dodger with some 
flour, to give consistence, and some sugar, to give sweet- 
ness. We baked it at the risrht time and in the rio-ht 
manner. We sliced it up, and daubed the slices over 
with artificial currant jelly. We went a step farther, 



A DDTNEE. 160 

and called it cake. TVe even varied the name of the 
cake, to meet the prejudice or fancy of the particular 
guest about to be helped. But vulgarly speaking, '' it 
was not a go." We could cheat our guests through the 
medium of their eyes and ears in many things, but we 
couldn't cheat them on dodger. "When they tasted 
dodger, they recognized dodger. Dodger for breakfast, 
dodger for dinner, and dodger for supper, in the course 
of half a year, makes a deep impression on the human 
mind. A little sugar and jelly were wholly inadequate 
to smooth it away. Here, then, in the very flush of 
victory, we were in danger of suffering a shameful 
defeat. Earlier in the dinner we could have brought up 
fresh forces, but now, in the hope of making the affair 
overwhelming, we had thrown our last reserve into 
action. A retreat was ruin, and an instant of hesitation 
would have acknowledged a defeat. In less than an 
instant we turned the retreat into a flank movement. 
Captain Dillingham, with naval effrontery, gave the 
cake a new name, and called it a Joke ! 

Thus ended this great dinner. Our guests retired 
from it wiser and better men. A profound sensation 
was followed by a healtliy excitement. Manufactures 
sprang up and trade began. Some gentlemen made 
caps from rags, and hats from straw. Others built a 
gymnasium for amusement, and others engaged in gar- 
dening for recreation. A few musicians manufactured 
banjoes, tanning the parchment and preparing the 
strings in camp. One ofiicer, possessed of a worn-out 

8 



170 PRISON CAMPS. 

file, a large screw, and a couple of old horse-shoes, 
ground the file into a chisel, and turned the screw and 
worn-out horse-shoes into a good turning lathe. Ano- 
ther changed this lathe from half-action to full-action. 
A third made for it a crank and foot-treadle. A fourth 
built an entirely new lathe, better than the first. And 
thus aff'airs went on until we numbered more than forty 
articles of camp manufacture made, chiefly, like our 
dinner, out of nothing.* 

* Among these fabrics manufactured and sold by the prisoners in 
Texas, were : 

Axe helves, Baskets, Blacking, Brooms, Candles (mould and dip), 
Chairs (arm and rocking). Chessmen, Checkermen, Crockerj- 
ware, Caps (military). Cigars, Door mats. Hats (straw) ; Musical 
instruments, viz., banjoes, castanets and triangles ; Pails, Pepper- 
boxes, Pipes, Potash, Kings, Shirt-studs, Sleeve-buttons, Soap, 
Shoes, Tables, Toy-boxes ; "Wooden-ware, viz., knives, forks, spoons, 
plates, dishes, bowls, salt-cejlars, wash-boards. 



ESCAPE. 171 



X. 

ESCAPE. 

Through illness, changes, toil and trouble, the subject 
of escape never left onr minds. At Camp Groce, weak- 
ness and ill-health constantly postponed intended at- 
tempts. Moreover, the open prairie country around the 
camp, the nearness of the coast-guard, and, above all, 
the absence of any point or outlet to which to run, were 
disheartening obstacles. At Camp Ford, it was some- 
what different ; for the woods came down nearly to the 
stockade, and the country was one vast forest. 

The troubles that beset the path of an escaping pri- 
soner in Texas were entirely different from those which 
would attend him in the IN'orthern States. The diffi- 
culty of passing the stockade and guard was trivial ; 
the difficulties of crossing the surrounding country were 
not insurmountable ; but after hundreds of miles were 
traversed, and weary days and nights had exhausted the 
body and dulled the mind, then the chief obstacles be- 
gan. Two hundred miles to the south w^as the Texan 
coast-guard. One hundred and fifty miles to the east 
were the carefully watched lines of the Ked River and 
Atchafalaya. To the north were the rebel Cherokees 
and the open Indian country. Five hundred miles west 



172 PEISON CAMPS. 

of US stretched desolate prairies, and beyond them were 
the scouts that watched and guarded the Rio Grande. 
In short, when we studied the map, we saw no city of 
refuge to which we might flee ; when the stockade was 
scaled and the pursuit evaded, there was still no outlet of 
escape. Further than this, the chances of re-capture were 
many. To look over the wide extent of country with its 
sparse population, its scattered plantations, its remote 
towns, and talk of pursuing prisoners would seem as idle 
as searching for needles in a haystack. But every road 
was watched, every river was guarded. Every man 
or woman or boy who was not a secret Unionist was 
in effect a Confederate patrol ; the entire State was one 
great detective police, constantly pursuing prisoners, 
refugees and slaves. 

Yet, after calmly contemplating these difficulties, the 
greater part of the prisoners at Camp Ford determined 
to escape. Perhaps the determination was quickened 
and extended by annoyances which began soon after our 
arrival, and which steadily increased. Tliere are said to 
be " bad streaks" in all countries, and Tyler is situated in 
a very bad streak of Texas. The inhabitants were poor, 
ignorant and narrow-minded, and viewed, with angry 
ill-will, the liberality of Colonel Allen. They poured in 
complaints at head- quarters, and the result was, that 
one fine morning, the poor Colonel received a reprimand 
for his liberality, and strict orders not to let us out of the 
stockade. 

The kindness of Colonel Allen and his amiable wife 



ESCAPE. 173 

was not lessened by its unpopularity. Eegularly, every 
afternoon, Mrs. Allen came within the stockade, accom- 
panied by a little black girl bearing a basket. Some- 
times she brought in visitors, partly to amuse us and 
partly to soften them. She was tireless in every work 
that could add to our comfort. She cheered the de- 
spondent and comforted the weak, and for the sick, 
showed that beautiful solicitude that no one save a Chris- 
tian woman can evince. 

There was a little paper then in camp, printed with 
the pen by Captain May, of the 23d Connecticut, which 
was read successively in the " shebangs," and shortened 
the hours and occupied the mind. It had much local wit 
and humor, but so blended with the inner life of Camp 
Ford, that the outside world can never understand its 
hits and jests. Yet frequently the Old Flag rose above 
satire and humor, and it enabled Lieutenant-Colonel Du- 
ganne to pay to Mrs. Allen the following graceful 
tribute : 

" All kindly acts are for the dear Lord's sake, 
And His sweet love and recompense they claim : 

*I was in prison' — thus our Saviour spake, 
'And unto me ye came !' 

" So, lady ! while thy heart with mother's love 

And sister's pity cheers the captive's lot. 
Truth keeps her record in the courts above, 

And thou art not forgot. 

" Though nations war, and rulers match their might, 

Our human bosoms must be kindred yet. 
And eyes that blazed with battle's lurid light, 

Soft pity's tears may wet. 



174: PRISON CAMPS. 

"Were all like thee, kind ladj, void of hates, 
And swayed by gentle wish and peaceful thought, 

Ko gulf would yawn between contending States, 
No ruin would be wrought. 

" May all thy matron's heart, with joy run o'er 
For children spared to bless thy lengthened years — 

Peace iu thy home, and plenty at thy door, 
And smiles, to dry all tears. 

*' And may each cheering hope and soothing word 

That thou to us sad prisoners hast given, 
Recalled by Him, who all our prayers hath heard, 

Bring the reward in Heaven." 

When tlie minds of many men are given wholly to 
one snbject, it is incredible how many expedients they 
can devise. Yet no expedient could be devised to com- 
ply with one condition which the calmer judgments im- 
posed, and which was thus allegorically expressed by 
one of our friends in the guard, " When General Green 
spreads his tents, there will be plenty of good recruits 
join him ;" which meant, "You had better wait till the 
leaves are out." 

At length, in the latter part of March, ere the buds 
were fully blown, the impatience of fifteen ofiicers broke 
through their discretion. They divided into three par- 
ties, and made their preparations carefully. Old haver- 
sacks were mended, and new ones made. Suspicious 
articles of dress were exchanged. Some beef was saved 
and dried ; hard-tack was baked, and panola made. 
This last article was recommended by the Texans. It 
consists of corn-meal browned to about the color of 



ESCAPE. 175 

ground coffee, witli a liberal allowance of sugar stirred 
in. Its advantages are that it requires no cooking, and 
contains a large amount of nutriment in proportion to 
its bulk and weight. 

The parties were soon ready to start. But the Texan 
atmosphere is dry and clear, with cloudless nights. One 
evening, while the colors of sunset were still glowing 
upon the western sky, an officer came to me, and point- 
ing to a black cloud that was rising from the horizon, 
said, "If that cloud comes up overhead, we will make 
the attempt." It was a bad hour, in every way; for 
darkness had not yet succeeded day, and the moon was 
already throwing her pale light upon the eastern clouds. 
Yet this cloud might not come again for weeks, and its 
dark shadow was too precious to be lost. 

A gay party assembled in the " shebang" nearest to 
the southern side of the stockade. They had a fiddle 
and banjoes and castanets, and all the vocal minstrelsy 
of the camp. They roared Irish songs, and danced 
negro break-downs, and the little cabin shook with the 
tumult of their glee. Down at the farther corner of the 
inclosure, where all was gloom and quiet, two men 
crawled on the ground to the stockade. They were 
about thirty feet apart, and a rope lay between them. 
The sentry on the outside heard the merriment in the 
" shebang," and as all was quiet on his beat, he walked 
up to look at the Yankee's fun. He passed the two men. 
The second twitched the rope; the first quickly rose, 
and dug with all his might. A few minutes, and the hole 



176 PRISON CAMPS. 

was deep enough to allow a post of the stockade to be 
canted over, so as to leave a narrow aperture between it 
and its neighbor. The man laid down his spade, sig- 
nalled to some one behind him, and began to squeeze 
himself through the opening. Fourteen others rose l^om 
the ground, and one by one, trembling with impatient 
eagerness, pressed through and followed him. They 
crossed the sentries' path, ran up a little hill that fronted 
the stockade, and disappeared beneath the trees beyond. 
The second of the two men still lay upon the ground. 
The last of the fifteen was to have twitched the rope, 
and this man was to have replaced the post. But who, 
at such a time, ever looked behind to see if he were last ? 
The signal was not given ! Within the " shebang " still 
rose the racket, and still the sentry stood grinning at the 
Yankee antics. But from the other direction came the 
tramp of the next guard-relief ! 

Among those who waited and listened, and saw noth- 
ing, there was intense suppressed excitement. In vain 
one or two moved round, begging the little groups to 
break up — to stifle their earnest whispers — to resume the 
ordinary hubbub of the evening — to laugh — to sing — to 
do anything. In vain a young lieutenant, who was both 
a wit and vocalist, burst forth with — 

" Roll on, silver moon ! 

Liglit the traveller on his way." 

The groups broke up, but re-formed ; the whispers stop- 
ped for a moment, and then went on. 



ESCAPE. 177 

The corporal of the guard hatted his relief, and could 
be seen observing the opening of the leaning post. There 
was a little pause, and then a light came down to the 
suspicious opening. There was a little longer pause — a 
slight stir through the guards' quarters, and then a 
squadron of cavalry rode out, and an officer, with four 
or ^ve men, went at a gallop down the Tyler road. 

The black cloud seemed to be the fugitives' friend ; 
for at this moment of discovery it poured down a heavy 
shower. AYe retired to our cabins, and felt some little 
relief in the hope that the friendly cloud had washed 
away the trail. Some time passed — perhaps two hours, 
and our hope had well-nigh turned into belief; when, 
from the Tyler road, a low, wailing, ominous cry smote 
upon our ears. " Did you hear that ?" each asked of 
the other, in startled whispers. " Yes ; the Uood- 
hounds /" 

The hounds came down to the stockade. They snuffed 
and moaned for a moment around the opening, and then 
ran straight up the bank and under the trees. There 
lay the trail. We listened until their faint baying could 
be heard no longer. Of all the dismal sounds that mor- 
tal senses were ever laden with, none more melancholy 
than the baying of these hounds was ever heard. "We 
passed the uneasy night in sjDCCulating upon the chances 
of the three parties, and in trying to imagine the feel- 
ings of our friends when they should first hear the fore- 
boding wail behind them, and surmise that the blood- 
hounds were upon their track. 

8* 



178 PRISON CAMPS. 

Yet the next morning tlie prospect appeared brighter. 
Three showers of rain had fallen during the night; 
twelve hours had passed since the escape, and we felt 
confident that the hounds must have lost the scent. 
The day passed in growling cheerfulness, and at taps no 
tidings had come. We went to our quarters, sure that 
all had been successful. About nine o'clock that even- 
ing, the door of my "shebang" opened, and Lieutenant- 
Colonel Leake, of the 20th Iowa, entering, presented, 
with mock formality, Lieutenant Lyon, of the 176th 
]^ew-York. He and his party had been recaptured. 

There were still eleven officers out, w^ho, w^e knew, 
were divided into two parties. Twenty-four hours must 
have passed before the hounds could have taken their 
trail, and every hour dissipated the scent. The second 
day passed without news. So did the third evening, 
and the morning of the third day. Then, about noon, 
word was passed in from the guard-house that nine more 
'were caught. 

In an hour or two, they came, close packed on the 
bottom of a wagon. We waited with some anxiety the 
reception they would meet with at head-quarters. Colo- 
nel Allen came out, shook hands with one or two, 
laughed, and manifestly treated the affair as a joke. 
The wagon started for the gate. Its way lay through 
the quarters of the guard, who had, of course, turned 
out to look at the runaway Yanks. We waited in the 
painful expectation of hearing a Texan yell over the 
misfortune of our friends. To their honor be it known, 



ESCAPE. 179 

tlie Texan s showed no ill-mannered exultation. But the 
instant it was settled that no shout of triumph was to be 
raised by the victorious rebs, there was a revulsion of 
feeling in the prison community. As the gate opened, a 
slight, restless stir ran through the crowd. As the 
wagon drove in, a loud shout arose (couched in expres- 
sive Texan slang) of, " Here's your mule ! Here's your 
mule !" The runaways smiled feebly, as men do who 
are the victims of a joke. The crowd laughed boister- 
ously, and gave excellent imitations of the baying 
of hounds. About the same time, a little three-year-old, 
the child of a commissary-sergeant, came out on the 
bank opposite to us, and in shrill tones piped out, 
" Yankee ran away ! Yankee ran away !" And all the 
afternoon, the little wretch would come, at short inter- 
vals, and re-sing his refrain, " Yankee ran away ! 
Yankee ran away ! Yankee ran away !" 

"When we came to collate the stories of the three 
parties, and of their captors, we gathered the following 
account : each party had kept secret its intended move- 
ments ; yet all had selected substantially the same route. 
Unluckily for them, their trails crossed, and, still more 
unluckily, there rode with the Confederates an old west- 
ern trapper, whom the men called Chillicothe. When 
the first party was captured, the pursuers merely returned 
to the crossing of the second trail, and followed it up. 
In like manner, when they had captured the second 
party, they only came back to the third trail. At these 
crossings, the prisoners could see nothing ; but to the 



180 PEISON CAMPS. 

eyes of Chillicothe and the instinct of the dogs, the two 
trails were as plain as the crossings of two streets. The 
trap]3er told the prisoners where they had been, and 
nearly everything they had done. He showed them 
where (unknowingly) they entered a swamp by the 
same opening, and crossed a stream on the same tree. 
He pointed out to them the spot where they sat down 
to rest, and the hill up which one climbed to recon- 
noitre. He described to them a log where one pulled off 
his boots, and another lit his pipe. A secret history of 
their movements seemed to be written upon the ground. 
The story of the last party captured was this : they 
marched rapidly all of the first night, and hid themselves 
through the first day. At dark, they resumed their 
march, and continued to travel rapidly through the woods. 
On the second morning, they selected, as a hiding-place, 
a narrow gully, roofed over and completely hidden by a 
fallen tree. The barking of dogs and crowing gf cocks 
told that a plantation was near. In the afternoon, two 
restless members of the party insisted on going there to 
buy eggs. Hardly had they gone, when, in the oppo- 
site direction, w^as heard the baying of hounds. Yet 
there were no fears of being tracked, for forty-four hours 
had passed since the party left camp. The baying came 
nearer. Still it was thought that a party of hunters were 
accidentally coming that way. A number of horsemen 
rode down to the little brook at the foot of the hill, and 
paused there to water their steeds. The dogs, at the 
same time, started, and came directly up the hill. A 



ESCAPE. 181 

"beautiful dark hound led the pack, and when he reached 
the tree, he mounted it with his fore-feet, and looked intel- 
ligently down on the prisoners. They remained quiet, 
fearing that some growl or bark might betray them, yet 
hoping the hounds would pass on. The leader turned, 
and quietly trotted down the hill. He went, not to his 
owner, but to the lieutenant who commanded the party ; 
he looked a moment at him, and then turning looked to- 
ward the fallen tree. The lieutenant instantly shouted, 
" Here they are !" All of his men drew their pistols, 
and spurred their horses up the hill. The tree was sur- 
rounded, and the fugitives recaptured. 

What became of the two remaining officers was a 
question with us for many weeks. The unerring hounds 
had started on their trail, but the lieutenant who com- 
manded, had ordered that they should be called off. He 
did not know how many prisoners had escaped, and 
moreover, he had already caught two parties of four each. 
Therefore, when he found five prisoners in the gully, he 
naturally concluded that they were all. Several weeks 
after this, a quotation from a 'New Orleans paper as- 
sured us of their safe arrival within our lines. 

The first fact impressed upon us by these adventures 
was the wonderful power and sagacity of the blood- 
hounds. During the next three months, a long list of 
experiences re-taught this lesson. The Confederates 
possessed in them " pursuing angels," whose powers ex- 
ceeded those of men. If you buried yourself in the 
earth, they dug you out. If you climbed a tree, they 



182 PEISON CAMPS. 

came and stood at the foot. If you plunged into track- 
less wilds, they followed you. If you threw yourself 
into a stream, and threaded its windings for miles, they 
passed tirelessly up and down its bank, until they came 
to the spot where you had left it. As every means that 
ingenuity could devise failed, and as prisoner after pri- 
soner who tried them was recaptured, there gradually 
grew up, in our minds, a feeling that to be hunted by 
these brutes was like being pursued by dreadful phan- 
toms, such as we read of in old stories, which no mortal 
power could outstrip or elude, if their insatiate chase 
once began. 

At the time of the escape of the fifteen, a number of 
officers were secretly engaged in " tunnelling out." 
There Mere two plans connected with this tunnel. The 
first w^as that all who washed to escape should pass out 
on the same night and then scatter in small parties. We 
knew that some of these parties would be caught — we 
also thought that some would escape, and every man 
hoped that he would be in a lucky party. The second 
plan rested in the breasts of but three or four officers, 
and they hardly ventured to speak of it to each other. 
It was that on some dark night we would pass all able- 
bodied men out, form them in the neighboring woods, 
march boldly down the road, and surprise the guard in 
their quarters ; then after burning the Confederate arse- 
nal and workshops at Tyler, we would seize upon horses 
sufficient to mount the party, and push without ceasing 
for the Sabine and our lines beyond. 



ESCAPE. 183 

About one hundred feet beyond the north side of our 
enclosed camp stood two large trees. The spot was 
known as the " Quartermaster's Grave," for there slept 
Lieutenant John F. Kimball, Quartermaster of the 
176th 'New York. The grave, carefully enclosed by a 
whicker fence, was between the two trees. The sentries' 
walk was close to the stockade and parallel to the grave. 
"Within our enclosure the " shebangs," though not built 
upon any plan, had nevertheless sprung up with some- 
what of the regularity of streets. One, however, called 
from its Indiana owners, the Hawk-eye, stood detached, 
and only about sixteen feet from the stockade. This 
cabin was taken for our starting point. In one corner a 
shaft was sunk eight feet in depth and length by 
four in width. From the bottom of this shaft the tunnel 
started. It was just high enough for a man to sit erect 
and work, and just wide enough for two men to meet 
and pass by each other. Two men worked in it at the 
same time, the one excavating and the other removing 
the earth. Their tools consisted of an old sword-bayonet, 
a broken shovel and a small box. 

The first difficulty met was in establishing the grade 
and direction of the tunnel. The top of it at the shaft 
was less than five feet below the surface, while the posts 
of the stockade stood four and a half feet deep. It was 
necessary to go well below them, and therefore neces- 
sary to start with a descending grade. Beside the 
Quartermaster's grave were three others. They project- 
ed over a line drawn from the shaft to the largest tree, 



184: PRISON CAMPS. 

and we designed that the tunnel should come out through 
the roots of this tree like a fox-earth. The wicker fence 
w4th the trunk and shadow of the tree, formed so perfect 
a screen from the sentries that a hundred men could 
have passed out on a stormy night with only remote 
chances of detection. Yet as the graves projected over 
the line I have mentioned, it was necessary for us to de- 
flect from our true course until we should pass them, and 
then turn and work toward the tree. To bore under 
ground in the dark, and hit such a mark as the tree could 
not be done by chance or guess-work. We also must 
know the exact distance of the point where we should 
turn from our deflecting course ; for if w^e turned too 
soon we should run into the graves, and "if we turned too 
late we sliould shoot beyond the tree. 

The difficulty of grade and direction was speedily dis- 
posed of. A pocket-compass and a small vial were soon 
procured, and Mr. Johnson, engineer of the gun-boat 
*' Diana," with admirable skill combined them into a good 
surveyor's compass and level. The direction of the tree 
was taken, the amount of our deflection estimated, and 
the compass-level handed to the workmen with orders to 
keep on a certain grade and course. 

To ascertain the exact distance of the tree was a harder 
task. For this three methods were suggested. It was 
first proposed that an officer should go out for wood, and 
as he passed this part of the stockade, some one should 
request him to co]5y the inscription on a head-board. 
He would then come up to the stockade for a pencil, and 






ESCAPE. 185 

thence walk directly to the tree, counting his steps as 
he Avent. The objection to this was that it might excite 
suspicion, and draw attention to the tree. 

The second method was to form an interior triangle, 
which should be equal to an imaginary exterior triangle. 
To do this it was indispensable that we should have " a 
given angle" and a " given side" of each. Our pocket- 
compass was too small to take angles, and moreover this 
had to be done literally within a few inches of the sen- 
tries and before their eyes. It was advisable, therefore, 
to measure and establish our given angle without instru- 
ments, and in the most artless manner. 

JSTow every body possessed of a smattering of geome- 
try knows that in a right-angled triangle the square of 
the hypothenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the 
other sides. Yet very few people can turn that know- 
ledge to any practical account. This theorem, however, 
enabled us readily and accurately to establish a right- 
angle, and to use it as our " given angle." It was done 
in this way : we took a cord and measured off and mark- 
ed with pins, ten feet, eight feet, and six feet. By squar- 
ing: these numbers it will be seen that 10^=8^-1-6^. 
Hence by bringing our line into the shape of a triangle 
(the pins designating the angles), we formed of it a right- 
angled triangle. 

It was not to be supposed that a Texan sentry, seeing 
us measuring with a cord on the inside of the stockade, 
would ever dream that we were measuring distances on 
the outside. Yet it was desirable that our measurements 



180 



PRISON CAMPS. 



slioiild be few and quickly done. After thus marking 
the line, and also measuring upon it twenty feet, Captain 
Torrey, of the 20th Iowa and myself, carried it up to the 
Hawk-eye cabin, di-opped it on the ground, and quickly 



Tree 



Trehe 




drew it into the form of the little triangle — A J K. 
As soon as the side A J came on a line with the tree, 
one of us glanced along the other side A K and noted 
the point B where its projection struck the stockade. 
He then quickly measured twenty feet in this direction, 
and stuck a peg in the ground at C. He measured 
twenty feet more and placed another peg at D. Here 
we re-set the triangle, which gave us the new direction 
D E. One of us then walked down this course till he 
found himself on a line with the peg C and the tree. 



ESCAPE. 



187 



Here we placed another peg, F. "We then picked up 
the cord and came away. "When the guard was relieved, 
and a new set of sentries stood around the stockade, we 
went back and measured the distance from F to D. It 
was equal to the distance from the cabin to the tree. 
pr The third method was suggested by Captain Torrey. 
It was to take the altitude of a triangle by trigonometry. 
A table of logarithms remaining in the possession of a 
naval officer, enabled us to do this. Captain Torrey laid 
off the base of his triangle well down in the camp, out 
of sight of the sentries. To measure the angle at A he 

T 



I 




described a circle on the back of a large chess-board, and 
divided it as accurately as he could into degrees. When 
the altitude B T was thus obtained, all that remained 
necessary to be done was to measure the distance from 
tlie base to the corner of the "shebang" (B C), and sub- 



188 PRISON CAMPS. 

tract it from the altitude B T. The results obtained by 
these two methods were substantially the same. 

A great deal of earth comes out of such a hole. It 
was estimated that we brought out two cart loads a day. 
For the first day or two our plan was simply to carry it 
from the cabin after dark. ]^ow this might escape no- 
tice, but if it once attracted observation, and that ob- 
servation should continue from night to night, detection 
was certain. The boldest course is always the safest, 
and therefore it was determined that all the earth should 
be carried out in broad daylight. Accordingly a num- 
ber of officers were detailed for this work. They n-ever 
went for a bucket of water without filling the bucket 
with earth ; none carried out a bag or basket empty. 
Little by little, the contents of the tunnel were distributed 
aronnd the camp. Some was thrown in the paths and 
trampled down — some in the ravine, and covered with 
ashes, and some was used to bank up " shebangs." It 
was scattered so perfectly that many of our own number 
were at a ]oss to know what had become of it. 

A sentinel constantly watched the gate. When any 
Confederate visitor entered, a signal was given, the 
work stopped within the tunnel, and a blanket was 
spread over the shaft. Yet all these precautions did not 
satisfy our anxiety. The ingenious engineer of the 
" Diana" was again called in. He skilfully arched over 
the shaft, leaving a hole at one end, over which he placed 
the meal-box of the Ha.wk-eye. The bottom of this box 
was movable. "When work was suspended in the tunnel 






ESCAPE. 189 

the bag of meal and cooking utensils were thrown into 
the box, and it became as honest a looking box as a man 
could have. When work was to begin again the box 
was emptied, the bottom was lifted out, and there ap- 
peared a dark hole, through which a man could drop 
down into the shaft below. 

Yet still our anxiety grew with the work. "We knew 
that if suspicion ever fell on any " shebang " it would 
fall on this one. We, therefore, determined to push a 
sap to an inner cabin, and pass all the earth through to 
the less suspicious building. A wet morning gave us a 
pretext for digging a trench. The trench was speedily 
roofed and covered with earth. When fully completed, 
one end of it entered the shaft, and the other opened in 
the second " shebang." The operation then w^as this : 
a workman in the tunnel filled a small box with earth ; 
a second one in the shaft drew out the box, and lifted it 
into the *' baby-jumper" (as the sap was called) ; a third 
drew it through, and emptied it in the second " she- 
bang." 

Yet all this precaution was deemed insufficient. The 
" baby-jumper" was enlarged so that a man could crawl 
through ; the box was removed, and the shaft was cover- 
ed over entirely. On the very day that this was com- 
pleted, the gate suddenly opened, and Colonel Allen 
came in. He walked rapidly to the Hawk-eye (whither 
he had never gone before), and contrary to his invaria- 
ble custom, entered it unasked and unannounced. He 
saw only a bare earth floor. 



190 PETSON CAMPS. 

It was plainly desirable that information of tlie pro- 
jected movement should be sent to our army, and ac- 
cordingly B message to that effect was duly forwarded 
to onr lines by the Confederate authorities in the follow- 
ing letter : 

Camp Ford, March 19, 1864, 

Dear N 

*' Letters came yesterday for some 

" of" us*, and it will please J to know that hers did 

"not escape this time. About a dozen of us have had 

" letters containing news to 15th ult. There were two from 

"mother, and one dated April 7th from for me. 

"On the whole we will not complain of our luck. I 

" am even willing to scatter them more equally amongst the 

*' prisoners, and indeed to let others have a few of mine. 

" We feel certain the blockaders 

"at* Sabine* and Galveston keep ours. Maj. Hyllested 

"assures us, he sent a flag off with them at least 

"three times. Let F look out* for them. Some 

'' were sent in September, others in October, November and 

"December, I think, but will not be sure as to all of 

" these months. Those which go ly Shreveport and Eed Kiver 

" seem to get through and reach their destination in 

" some cases. 

" Stevenson (as I wrote to you) whom 

" we left sick at Iberia, is here nearly well. Let 

"his family know this." 

The key to this letter had been previously Sent out by 
an exchanged prisoner. It early became apparent that 
secret correspondence might be useful to us and of ad- 
vantage to the government. But it was necessary that 
it should be both secret and unsuspected. An ordinary 



ESCAPE. 191 

cipher would have been as worthless as any contraband 
letter. My first idea was to take a certain word of every 
line to convey the hidden message. But this 1 found 
lengthened the letter too much, and I therefore added to 
these every blotted and underscored word. If a person 
were sure that his correspondent knew the key, and it 
he were allowed to coin facts and write nonsense, 
this correspondence would be easy enough. But it be- 
came somewhat difiicult when written under the follow- 
ing conditions ; viz., 1. To write briefly ; 2, To use such 
words and subjects as a prisoner in that camp would 
naturally use ; 3. To state in the body of the letter the 
personal information 1 wished to communicate ; for I was 
never sure my key had reached my correspondent. 
Yet a very little practice removed much of the difficulty, 
and for six months, every letter carried out its twofold 
intelligence. If now the reader will collate the fifth 
word of every line, the words marked thus* and those in 
italics^ the inner meaning of the foregoing letter will be- 
come apparent. 

ITews now arrived of the advance of our army up the 
Eed Eiver. The leaves were coming out, and the time 
was slowly approaching when we expected to use the 
tunnel. The officer who had been selected to direct the 
work, well knew that when this time should arrive it 
would be absolutely impossible to prevent the whole camp 
from talking of it, and that one careless word might ruin 
everything. He therefore sought to conceal the real 
situation of the affair, by concealing the real distance to 



192 - PRISON CAMPS. 

the tree, and under-rating the amount of work actually 
performed. Every precaution was taken to divert atten- 
tion from the progress of the work ; for the inspection of 
the shrewd Colonel betokened that some foolish word 
had been overheard by the sentries, or else that we had 
a secret sj)y in camp. There were then a few straggling 
privates within the stockade, and suspicion pointed at 
two of these. A constant watch was kept upon them ; 
and orders were given that all conversation on the subject 
should cease. 

The niglit of the fifteenth of April would be the first 
o] 1 which the moon would rise late enough for a sufiicient 
nimber of men to pass out ; and on the fifteenth of April 
it was designed that the tunnel should be finished and 
tie sally made. On the ninth, news arrived that a great 
battle had begun at Mansfield. On the tenth, rumors 
ci\me, saying that the Confederate General had possessed 
stflScient courage to more forward and strike our invad- 
ing army. On tlie eleventh, we heard that he had struck 
it in detail, routing it and driving it back toward Alex- 
andria. On the thirteenth, Colonel Allen received orders 
to prepare for four thousand new prisoners. On the 
fifteenth, the stockade was moved back six hundred feet, 
and our unfortunate tunnel left high and dry in the mid- 
ile of this new enclosure. 



EXCHANGE. 193 



XI. 

EXCHANGE. 

The work upon the tunnel was interrupted for a day 
by an event, which I think must be without a parallel 
in any other prison-camp. At the breaking out of the 
rebellion, Miss MoUie Moore was a school girl of six- 
teen. After Galveston was re-taken by the Con- 
federates, the "Houston Telegraph" was adorned with 
several heroic ballads, written by the young lady, 
whom the editor sometimes called "our pet," and some- 
times the " unrivalled star of Texan literature." The 
42 d Massachusetts had been quartered in a warehouse 
on the wharf of Galveston, and had passed the night 
previous to their capture in fighting, all of which the 
ballad described thus : 

" Beneath the Texan groves the haughty foemen slept." 

The literary taste of a simple, half-educated people is 
never very high, and it is not surprising that this child- 
ish composition so nicely equalled the taste of its readers, 
as to be deemed a marvel of genius, and actually to be 
published with General Magruder's official report. Miss 
Mullie became the literary genius of Texas, and her 
effusions were poured forth through the " Houston 
Telegi-aph" and the " Tyler Eeporter " and the "Crocket 

9 



194 PRISON CAMPS. 

Quid J^niic " in most lavish streams. This strong incen- 
tive to write, and these ready opportunities to publish 
were not altogether abused by the young authoress, 
who rapidly improved. Judging her by the other poems 
that adorned those papers, she indeed appeared to be 
the "unrivalled star of Texan literature." I am for- 
tunate in being able to introduce her to northern readers 
by an extract from : 

AN IITYITATION 

TO MISS LIZZIE lEVINE, OF TTLEE. 

The autumn sunset's fairy dyes 
Have faded from the bonding skies 
Grey twilight (she with down-cast eyes 
And trailing garments) passeth by ; 
And thro' the cloud-rifts shine the stars, 
As sunbeams burst thro' prison bars ; 
And on the soft wind, faintly heard, 
The warbling of some twilight bird 
Comes floating sylph-like, clad with power, 
To whisper, " This is love's own hour !" 

***** 
'Tis autumn — and with summer fell 
The climbing vines of Sylvan Dell ; 
Our flowers too withered when the pall . 

Cl'ept over summer ; and the fall 
Of dry leaves, eddying thro' the air, \ 

Has left the tall trees brown and bare : 
And more — at winter's high behest. 
The crisp fern waves a tatered crest 
Above the stream, whose crystal pride 
The river-screen was wont to hide. 



EXCHANGE. 195 

But think not all are faithless ! no, 
Not all doth Summer yield her foe, 
Tho' Winter grasp each flower and vine- 
He cannot claim the fadeless pine, 
And high upon our rough hill-steeps, 
His watch the crested hollj keeps. 
Ah would that Love could thus defy 
The storms that sweep our wintry sky ! 

***** 
Come wander with mo where the hill 
Slopes downward to the waters still, 
Where bright among the curling vines 
The Sevres berry scarlet shines. 
And on yon brown hill's bosky side, 
Where flames the sumach's crimson pride, 
The steeps and tangled thickets glow 
With rude persimmons golden show ; 
And down the dell, whero daylight's beams 
Make golden pathways by the streams, 
Where whispering winds are never mute, 
The hawthorn hangs her ebon fruit. 

Come wander with me ! near the spring 
The partridge whirs on mottled wing. 
And where the oozy marshes rest 
The wild duck heaves her royal breast. 
And when the winds are faintly stirred, 
The " sound of dropping nuts " is heard. 

^ * H: * * 

Come thou ! a bright and golden bar 
Comes quivering from yon yellow star. 
And sweeps away as spirits flee. 
To bear my vesper thought to thee. 
Come thou ! a zephyr sweet and mild 
Comes whispering where the starlight smiled. 



196 PEISON CAMPS. 

And floats as Love's own spirits flee, 
To bear my vesper wish to thee. 
Come thou ! a spirit wanders bj, 
"With gentle brow and tender eye, 
And flies as Love alone can flee, 
To bear my vesper prayer to thee. 
Come thou ! and when the hour as now 
Hangs heavy shades on day's cold brow, 
When stiirs are glowing in the skies. 
The blessed stars, Love's radiant eyes, 
"When faintly on the breeze is heard. 
The hymning of some brooding bird— 
Ah how the twilight hour will be 
Love's dearest hour to thee and me ! 

It seems impossible that a young lady able to write 
such correct and pleasing verse could be brought down 
by a bad subject to the following inflated nonsense, 
which is a stanza from a terrific piece called " The 
Black Flag," '' Dedicated to the Southern Army :" 



Let our flag kiss the breeze ! let it float o'er the field, 
Not a heart will grow faint, not a bay'net will yield ; 
Let the foe drive his hosts o'er our land and the sea. 
To the banquet of Death prepared by the free I 
Unfurl our dark banner*! be steady each breast. 
Till the red light of Victory hath lit on its crest ! 
Let it hang as the vulture hangs, heavy with woe, 
O'er the field where our blades drink the blood of the foe ! 

Chorus— It shall never be lowered, the black flag we bear, 
It shall never, never, never, no never, etc., etc., etc. 



EXCHANGE. 197 

Tliere was a young lieutenant among the prisoners 
given to collecting all sorts of scraps and curiosities, and 
so lie addressed a note to Miss Mollie, begging for her 
autograph and copies of any poems she might be able to 
spare. Within a reasonable time there came a copy of 
the " Invitation " and an autograph of the " Black 
Flag," and a reproachful letter to Lieutenant Pearson. 
There was also a letter to Colonel Allen, not intended 
for Yankee reading. It expressed a little repentance for 
writing so cruelly to an unfortunate prisoner — avowed 
a wish to treat even invaders with politeness, and wound 
up with the Eve-like conclusion, "But I could riot 
resist the temptation. Yours truly, Mollie E. Mooke." 

One or two other causes at the same time combined 
to induce Miss Mollie to visit Camp Ford, and one lucky 
morning Mrs. Allen escorted her in. She was one of 
those girls that men are a little afraid of, and that 
other girls do not like ; she had a slender figure, a thin 
face, light hair, light blue, dreamy eyes, and she was 
accompanied by the object of the " Invitation." There 
was not much of the poetess in her bearing, for she was 
very neatly dressed, a ready talker, and quite sharp at 
repartee. Yet when Colonel Burrill was presented to 
her as one of the " haughty foemen," she colored, 
and showed a little pretty embarrassment. The friend 
was her exact opposite, with dark hair, dark eyes, very 
shy and silent and reserved, and much the prettiest 
Texan it was ever my luck to see. 

About the same time a second notable incident occur- 



198 PRISON CAMPS. 

red, being no less tljan a litei'ary contest between prison- 
ers and the ont side world. One of our number bad 
received some ' attention from the Houston editor, in 
return for which he sent him a few verses, entitled, 
" Pax Yobiscum." These lines so exactly accorded with 
the yearning for peace, that they awakened great in- 
terest, and after a while were re-published, with the edi- 
torial avowal that they were written by a Yankee pri- 
soner. Another literary lady, middle-aged, married, and 
rather stout (so I was informed), but who called herself 
by the infantile name of " Maggie of Marshall," there- 
upon came out with a poem, addressed to " the noble 
prisoner," in' which she styled him, " The northern by 
birth but the southern in soul," and urged him to come 
straight over and fight on their side. The " noble 
prisoner " had no earthly intention of deserting, so he 
wrote a second poem for the " Tyler Reporter," in which 
he defined his position. When Mistress Maggie of Mar- 
shall found that her blandishments were all thrown 
away, she became deeply indignant, and immediately 
wrote her second poem for the " Reporter," wherein the 
" noble prisoner " was turned into a puritan and a mur- 
derer and a son of Cain, and finally turned adrift with 
the contemptuous pity : 

" Behold this Ephraim to his idols joined — 
Let him alone." 

I cannot speak very explicitly of our last three months. 
In telling this story, I have tried to picture only the 



EXCHAiraE. 199 

better side of every tiling, and to make it imprisonment 
with the unpleasant parts left out. The story is " the 
truth," but not " the whole truth," and does not deny or 
conflict with the narratives of others. A sense of honor 
forbids that the better actions of our late enemies should 
be hidden, or that the good and the bad should be con- 
demned together. Yet I may as well add here, for the 
benefit of certain persons, that the respect yielded to a 
southern soldier standing by his State, and heroically 
fighting for that false belief (in which he was bred), 
does not extend to those cowards who, " sympathizing 
with the South," have skulked through the war behind 
the generous protection of the United States. 

The Eed Kiver prisoners arrived, and were followed 
by numbers from Arkansas. Our soldiers and sailors of 
Camp Groce, who, four months before, left us hopefully 
sure of their release, came back — I need not say how 
sad and disappointed. Our number swelled from a 
hundred ofiicers, to forty-seven hundred and twenty-five, 
officers, soldiers and sailors. Then followed a (^^uarter of 
a year of loathsome wretchedness, beside which, the 
squallor and vice of a great city's worst haunts appeared — 
and still appear, too bright and pure to yield a com- 
parison. 

The healthy character of our camp changed in a single 
week. Disease and death followed each other quickly 
in. The friendless sick lay shelterless on the ground 
around us, the sun scorching and blighting them by 
day, and the cold Texan night-wind smiting them by 



200 PRISON CAMPS. 

night. "We walked over the dying and the dead, when- 
ever we moved, and saw and heard their miseries through 
every hour. Beside the gate stood a pile of coffins, re- 
minding all who went out and came in, of their proba- 
ble impending fate. The vice and lawlessness that live 
in the vile haunts of cities sprang up and flourished here. 
The Confederate troops (idle after their victories on the 
Eed Eiver) came back to scour the country for deserters ; 
and our unhappy conscript friends whispered that 
escape was hopeless now, and sought to comfort us by 
lamenting that no dim prospect of exchange cheered 
them. Our kind friends, the Aliens, had gone, and the 
English Lieutenant-Colonel, who commanded, treated a 
few with surly civility, but the great mass with brutal 
cruelty. The horrors of these great prison-camps are not 
yet told — will never be. 

It is darkest before the dawn. We sat at dinner, one 
day, and a sailor, whose nick-name was Wax, came to 
the door, and said to his Captain, "The paroling officer, 
sir, who was here three months ago, has come back, and 
the guards say, there are some of us to be exchanged." 
The Captain thanked the man, and we went on with our 
dinner. " I suppose," some one remarked, " that if ex- 
change ever does come, the news will come through 
Wax ;" and then we dropped the subject; for a hundred 
times just such stories had been told, and a hundred 
times they had proved false. Captain Dillingham 
finished his dinner, and said he would go out and see 
that officer ; perhaps the fellow had brought us some let- 






EXCHANGE. 201 

ters. Tlie Captain came back in a few minntes, and 
said, as cheerily as tliougli he were telling good news for 
himself, " You are to go, and I am to stay — none 
of us navy fellows to be exchanged." Our rose had its 
thorn. 

Three days of anxious waiting passed, and we bade 
our navah friends farewell. Some of them had been 
tried then six months longer than we had been. The 
trial of all went on for seven months more. They suf- 
fered, again and again, the sorest pain that can be 
inflicted on prisoners of war — the sight of those march- 
ing out who were captured long subsequent to themselves, 
and the ^ fear that the injustice comes from the neglect 
of their own government. There was thrown upon them 
also a strong temptation ; for there were desertions, I am 
sorry to say, from the army. The deserters were chiefly 
foreign bom, but not all. The first, indeed, was a young 
man in the 2d Khode Island Cavalry, a native of another 
New England State. Yet these sailors never faltered. 
If men who have fought bravely in battle, and who have 
been faithful through suffering, ever deserved to be wel- 
comed home with honors and ovations, then did these 
sailors of the " Morning Light," " Clifton," and 
^'Sachem."- 

One thousand of us marched out of the crowded camp, 
We inhaled long breaths of the pure untainted air, yet 
dared not believe that this would end in exchange. It 
was the sixth time that some had marched over the same 
road, and we might well be incredulous. There was 



202 PRISON CAMPS. 

weaiy marcliing over burning sand, and the long-con 
fined men grew weak and foot-sore, before they had 
marched an hour. The Confederate officers acted kindly, 
but the prisoners had seen chances of exchange lost by 
a single day's delay, and they dragged themselves for- 
ward with a rigor that would have been cruelty had 
it been enforced on them. The white sand glaring under 
their feet, and the burning sun beating down through the 
breathless air, made a fiery ordeal. Shoeless men, with 
feet seared and blistered so that the hot sand felt like 
coals of fire, tottered along, not faster than a mile an 
hour, yet moving steadily. A few wagons, pressed from 
the liarvest-fields, were covered with the sick and dying, 
and thus appearing, on the fifth day, we marched through 
the streets of Shreveport. 

Here three days of insupportable longness awaited us ; 
for Shreveport had been the dam that had always 
stopped prisoners and turned them back. On the fourth 
morning we marched on board of the steamboats that 
were to carry us down the Red River ; and then, when 
Shreveport was fairly behind us, we breathed freer, and 
for the first time allowed ourselves to hope. At Alex- 
andria we were stopped and landed, and made to endure 
two other days of suspense, but at last we re- embarked 
for the point of exchange. 

The mouth of Red River was the place where our flag- 
of-truce boat was to meet us. We reached it before 
sunrise, and saw again the muddy current of the Missis- 
sippi. No flag-of- truce boat was in sight. But we saw 



EXCHANGE. 203 

two gun-boats that sentinelled the river, and our eyes 
rested on the flag that streamed over their decks, and 
silently proclaimed to us the still sovereign power of the 
United States. A shot from the gun-boats bade us stop. 
A small boat was lowered ; we saw its crew enter it, and 
an officer come over the side ; and then it pulled toward 
us. The officer inquired the object of the Confederate 
flag-of-truce, and told us the disheartening fact that he 
had heard nothing of this exchange. Then followed 
nine hours, that seemed as though they would never 
move away. A crowd of prisoners stood on the upper 
deck, their eyes strained on the river. The morning 
passed, the afternoon began, and still nothing could be 
seen. At two o'clock, a little puff of black smoke 
appeared far down the Mississippi, and a murmur ran 
through the crowd. An hour crawled away, and a large, 
white steamer pushed around a headland of the river, 
and came rapidly up against the muddy current. The 
strained eyes thought they saw a white flag, but it was 
hard to distinguish it on the white back-ground of the 
boat. Suddenly the steamer turned and ran in to the 
bank below us — the white flag streamed out plainly in 
view, and the decks were covered with Confederate 
prisoners. 



It was on the last day of thirteen months of captivity 
that I re-entered our lines. All that I had seen and 
learnt was contained in about thirty days. Could these 



/ 



204: PEISON CAMPS. 

thirty days have been "brought together, they would 
have formed an interesting and instructive month. But 
beside this one were twelve other months, that were a 
dreary, idle waste. They formed a year that had 
brought no pleasure, profit or instruction. Some who 
entered it young, came out with broken health and 
shortened lives ; some who had entered it in middle age, 
came out with grey hair, impaired memory, and the de- 
crepitude of premature old age. It was a year that had 
taken much from us and given to us little in return. A 
year of ever-disappointed hopes, of barren promises, of a 
blank and dreary retrospect. Contemplating it, we 
might almost reverse the meaning of our gently-chiding 
poet : 

" Rich gift of God ! A year of time ! 
What pomp of rise and shut of day — 
"What hues wherewith our northern clime 
Makes autumn's drooping woodlands gay — 
"What airs outblown from ferny dells, 
And clover bloom, and sweet-brier smells — 
"What songs of brooks and birds — what fruits and flowers, 
Green woods and moon-lit snows have in its round been ours." 



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